#there is a different kind of bitterness to thinking about how ten years have passed | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

vashatxt · 9 months

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infamy - a jingyuan / blade (jingren) modern au

in which jingyuan and blade are idols, and have a history with each other. porn with angst and pining.

Jingyuan knows not to get his hopes up; and yet, as soon as the numbers on his phone screen signal the arrival of the witching hour, he flicks open his messaging app and waits. And he waits. He's only hurting himself by looking forward to these Tuesday nights, where Ren is sometimes willing and able to meet him at the run down basketball court a few streets away from their company dorms - he's warned Jingyuan to not get attached, that this isn't a habit, that it doesn't mean anything. He's cold to him, actually, most of the time. Maybe that's why Jingyuan looks forward to these escapades so much.

Because when they're together, that façade melts away. The look that Ren refuses to return when they pass each other in the hallway, the ignored messages and short replies, the denial of any friendship between them. The latter probably hurts the most, because they are friends. Close ones. They go way back, trainees together, roommates for a while before Jingyuan debuted as the leader of Infamy. A year after that, Ren joined a survival program, ranking first out of 25 trainees from their company and debuting in four member boy group The Rumor. They're both popular, well established and loved, Jingyuan the sensible father figure of his group, and Ren the enigmatic youngest of his; with dance skills as deadly as his stage name. Blade.

The Rumor have a much more edgy, almost hip-hop type vibe; they push the envelope, appealing to those that Infamy, a polar opposite classic pop group, might not. Still, though, because both come from the same company, there's always been a huge overlap in fanbases. One of Jingyuan's devoted fansites even doubles up, trying their best to follow both him and Ren to different schedules. It's pretty easy, since they don't tend to promote at the same time.

[Message received. 03:03am]

REN: ?

A question mark. "Is that all I'm worth?" Jingyuan sighs, speaking out loud to himself. He's the only member still awake, leaning over the breakfast bar and staring at his phone longingly like some kind of pathetic, lovelorn romantic.

JINGYUAN: (thumbs up emoji)

And for the third week in a row, they meet.

The bitter cold of the early November morning brings out their differences. Ren emerging from the shadows in an oversized hoodie and basketball shorts, Jingyuan waving at him from across the court before jogging over, chinos and black boots and a white faux-fur coat.

"You'll freeze," Jingyuan says as soon as he's within earshot. Ren shrugs, spinning the tattered red ball they play with on his finger, and then tossing it at Jingyuan's chest. His arms had already been half outstretched, mindlessly thinking of pulling Ren into a hug.

He just about manages to catch it and not look like a total fool.

"Not your concern, Grandpa," he rolls his eyes, clicking his tongue. "One on one."

Neither of them are particularly good at basketball. Why they have to go through these motions is beyond Jingyuan. They both know why they're here, they're touch starved and desperate and hungry for each other. But Jingyuan wants him too much and Ren doesn't want to need him. So, this is how he plays it. It's always on Ren's terms, he sets boundaries, he sets the stage, he sets the time. Hell, he doesn't even allow Jingyuan to call him by his real name. It has to be Blade.

Jingyuan supposes it would feel too real otherwise.

It's always first to ten points. The ball moves much more fluidly through Ren's limbs, under and around his legs and bounced and spun with his delicate hands and fingers. He can evade and steal. His aim is impeccable. Jingyuan's tactics are no match; his shots are blocked before he has any time to react. The sound of Ren's trainers scraping the uneven concrete, the whooshing sound of the basketball flying through the air, Jingyuan's tired breaths.

"Alright - Alright, you win," Jingyuan falls to his knees as Ren scores his tenth basket, with very little protest from Jingyuan, not even an attempt to block it.

"It's no fun when it's a given," he sighs, letting the ball roll into the overgrown grass surrounding them and lowering himself onto the ground beside him. "You really need to try harder."

"How are you so full of energy?"

"Well, we only finished practice at 3... maybe 2:30am," Ren corrects himself, and Jingyuan wonders if this has anything to do with the fact he'd text him just minutes after 3:00. Had he been as antsy to see Jingyuan as Jingyuan was to see him? "I'm still pretty high on caffeine."

"You should get some sleep...,"

"Why did you come, then?" Ren raises one eyebrow. "Didn't you want to see me?"

Of course he did.

Ren shifts closer and places his freezing cold hand underneath Jingyuan's chin, pulling him into a kiss that starts soft but is going to end anything but. As soon as he feels Ren's tongue in his mouth, Jingyuan moans, scrambling to get as close as he can to him, gripping fistfuls of his dyed black and red wolfcut, tugging at the locks intertwined around his fingers, desperate to make him wince or whine or moan his name. All he wants is to hear it. Hear him want him just as much.

Jingyuan shivers as Ren loosens the buttons on his coat, making room for him to slip his arms around his waist, just under his shirt. It feels so intimate, caught up like this with him. Jingyuan wants to be in charge. He wants to gently lower him down and climb on top of him, kiss him with all the love and affection that he keeps bottled up inside him. He wants to trail his lips down his naked body, from the tip of his nose to his feet. He wants to hold his twitching, aching cock and look deep into his eyes while he jacks him off. Just waiting for him to moan - Jingyuan, please - because he needs to hear it before he cums.

But that's not how it goes. It has to be on Ren's terms, those are the rules. And it hurts because he knows it's Ren's way of keeping things at arms length, of pushing away his feelings. These aren't the kisses of a man who just needs a quickie with whoever is available to get through the week. Jingyuan knows, deep down, the secret that Ren thinks he's hiding so well.

"You must be hard for me," Ren whispers, pulling away from their kiss to breathe the words into his ear, sending tingles down Jingyuan's spine.

"O-of course...," he mumbles, because of course he is. He's attracted to Ren in a way he'd never been attracted to anyone, boy or girl, romantically or sexually. There's just a year or so between them, but he feels so protective of him. Like he's the most precious thing in the world, one that keeps putting itself in harms way because it doesn't know its own value.

Ren runs one hand down his stomach and towards his pants; they're so tight on him that he isn't able to force it underneath the waistband - "No easy access?" he cooed - but that just gives him ample opportunity to tease. He rests his hand on his crotch and begins to palm his bulge through the fabric. Jingyuan leans his head back, letting out a low moan and breath of pleasure.

"Ohh, that's so.... that's so...,"

"So what?"

"Mhhm, good, it feels good...,"

"Dizzying, right? I really drive you insane."

"You do, you doooo... I'm so yours...," "Lift your hips for me, Jingyuan," he squeezes the inside of his thigh to punctuate his command. "I need to see you." He could never disobey Ren, his breathy, honeyed, ethereal voice that's reserved only for him, or at least, only for those he becomes intimate with. The idea of Ren with anyone else makes him feel nauseous, though; so Jingyuan doesn't linger on that thought. He just does what he's told... "There's a good boy...,"

Jingyuan can see right through him. He needs to be the one taken care of, coaxed and loved and made feel safe and pretty and perfect and good. So good. But he'll never accept it, especially not from Jingyuan. He'll never allow himself to fall apart for him.

But that's what Jingyuan thinks about as Ren wraps his hand around the base of his cock, his chinos and boxer shorts discarded beside them, and begins to stroke him, painfully slowly for the first few seconds, enjoying how Jingyuan twitched in his grip, and then, and then, and then... he lowers himself down onto his stomach so he can comfortably take the tip of Jingyuan's cock between his lips; tongue lapping up the leaking precum and swirling around his head. He can feel each flick of the tongue and squeeze of his cock in his stomach, tiny movements twisting knots and setting off swarms of butterflies, lighting fires that send waves of heat towards his crotch; his cock aching, balls begging to be drained. Ren makes eye contact as he sucks him, dropping his grip so that he can deepthroat his entire length.

"Fuuck," Jingyuan curls his toes, his calves and thighs clenched and stretched, tighter and tighter the faster Ren began to move up and down his shaft, lips slipping easily over it, lubricated with saliva and cum. "God, damnit, Ren...,"

"Hm?"

Ren withdraws his mouth sharply, both his eyebrows raised this time, staring at Jingyuan like he'd just uttered a curse. "What did you just call me?"

"Fuck, sorry, Blade, sorry-," His stupid fucking rule.

"I'm your Blade," he hisses; almost cat-like as he braces himself with his hands and pushes up onto his knees. Crawling with his gaze on Jingyuan like he's his prey, only stopping when they are face to face. "I'm your Blade. That's all," he spits. "I'm a sharp edged fucking sword that will gut you and split you in half if you aren't careful."

"I'm sorry...,"

"Didn't your parents teach you not to mess with knives?"

"I just want-,"

"What do you want, Jingyuan?" Ren spits again, the whites of his eyes almost translucent as he widens them, staring him down. "Jingyuan, submit to me. That way, I can have you."

But you can't have me. The sentence goes unfinished, but it doesn't have to be said to be heard. Jingyuan grabs him by the shoulders and whines, begging for a kiss; he'll take what he can get. He'll hurt himself for Ren, because Ren is hurting, he's always hurting for some reason or another, all because he holds this deep seated belief that he's saving everyone else from the monster that is him. Jingyuan knows it's not something he can fix over night; a boy so scared of true intimacy that he can't bear to hear his own name and feel his own humanity - a boy who couldn't dare fathom accepting love, because he doesn't have a damn clue what it's like to love and not lose.

Jingyuan lies there and subtly strokes intricate, circular patterns on Ren's skin while he grinds against his cock, making them both feel good; he sneaks little signs and acts of love with every swipe of his thumb and whimper at his touch. It's all he can do, for now. When Ren makes him cum, now deepthroating his cock again, making loud spluttering noises, gulping his load as he spills into his mouth, Jingyuan mouths his name - Ren - because he can't see him do so, and it feels almost okay. Almost like it should be. Ren kisses him with salty lips, Jingyuan's hands fumble into his lap so he can get him off, in return for the most eye-watering, heart stopping blowjob he's ever been treated to.

Ren moans like a whore, dramatics that Jingyuan enjoys so, he has no doubt he could just as easily sit there straight faced and looking bored, but he chooses to believe that this is his true expression; that Jingyuan does make him feel this good. His cum all over Jingyuan's hand, Ren smiles and pouts, pleading with him to clean it up; and how could be possibly refuse? He lifts it to his mouth and watches Ren's face for hint of pleasure or approval, licking the mess up, sucking his fingers dry and breathing in the scent of Ren's cum that lingers on his sticky palms. "Mhm."

"Good boy, Jingyuan," Ren bites his lip and smirks. "You belong to me, don't you?"

Jingyuan nods, because all he wants is to see that oft-chewed on lip break out into a smile; just for him.

[Message received. 03:03am] REN: ?

Jingyuan tries to keep a straight face as a message from Ren lights up his phone for the first time in weeks. The time passed, with no contact, not even a salute when passing each other in the hallway, has been driving him insane; always replaying their last meeting over and over in his mind. Had he fucked up? Had he crossed one too many lines, disrespected the boundary that Ren had set for them, and lost everything because of it?

He knows the deal. He can’t mould, can’t drive, can’t force this relationship into what he wishes it could be. Just sex, no feelings, top secret. It’s better than not getting to be with Ren at all, not having the privilege to make him feel good and wanted and needed and beautiful. Ren deserves that - no matter how battered Jingyuan’s heart gets in the process; for it’s his own doing after all.

It’s funny, he thinks; because as he passes by a mirror on the way out of the apartment he shares with the rest of the Infamy members, he’s startled by his own reflection. He’s aging. He doesn’t look terrible, objectively speaking - he’s still got a thick, healthy head of hair, he’s in shape, he’s well dressed. But the lines extending from the corners of his eyes and snaking across his forehead, the gaunt cheeks, his completely washed out complexion; all give the impression of a guy who has worked himself to the bone. And those bones are beginning to hurt, at the gym and at dance practice and on the way down the stairs. Knees and ankles and hips don’t last in his profession, no matter how hard you try to keep your body happy. Lack of sleep, messed up body clocks, the hectic lifestyle of a celebrity, the constant yoyo dieting, the travel.

There was a time before all of this, a time where he was less tired and less jaded. There was even a time before Ren, surprisingly enough. Jingyuan’s parents had such high hopes for him. When he was just a toddler, they played a game - some kind of family tradition going back further than he could comprehend - where he was placed in the middle of an assortment of objects, each representing a path, and whichever one Jingyuan’s grubby little hands gravitated towards was seen as a message from fate or God or the universe or some other divine, spiritual thing.

There were mixed feelings when he crawled over to a microphone and began to tap the top of it. His mother beamed, envisioning him as some kind of leader or person of importance, perhaps a lawyer or a politician, someone who used their voice to bring about change and had status and influence.

His father cocked his head, holding his hand in the air to shush his wife for a moment. A military man, he longed to see his son follow in his footsteps. Low and behold, a grin broke out across Jingyuan’s face as he discovered how fun it was to bang the leg of the wooden coffee table with his new favorite toy.

A penchant for violence. Thank heavens!

Except, the banging softened after a couple of seconds, and young Jingyuan’s eyes widened even further - bom, bom, bom, bom. He could replicate the rhythm of his favorite nursery rhyme.

Fast forward to his teenage years, and it was just that, rhythm and melody, that motivated him. He put in the work, he learned to move his body in time with music, he manipulated his voice to reach notes high and low, and people naturally gravitated towards him. When he became an idol trainee, those leadership skills his mother had hoped he’d develop really shone. Anyone could tell that he would debut, that he was set to be the foundation, the leader, the strong presence in a group that, if they reached the heights the company hoped them to, would need a strong, kind peer in charge. Jingyuan isn’t intimidating, he understands and empathises with the worries and concerns of his members. He knows what it’s like to be in agony, exhausted, burnt out. He also has a way with words, inspires them to relight the fire in the pits of their stomachs, and it’s thanks to him that Infamy became both a global phenomenon, and stayed one for so many years.

“Where are you off to, Yu?”

He’s caught off guard by the sound of Luocha’s voice and the sweet nickname. “Luocha. I thought everyone was on vacation.”

“I got back this morning, and fell right asleep.” He chuckles, soft and easy. “Do you have any idea what the team meeting on Monday is about?”

“Naturally. I’ll let you wallow in anticipation, though - don’t worry, it’s nothing to be concerned about, as long as you’re up for some good times and hard work.”

Jingyuan raises his eyebrows, playful, and Luocha’s enthusiastic nod re-affirms what he’s always known to be true: no matter how long Infamy would last, even if they’re still touring when they hit 40 years of age and upwards, Luocha would always be the first to jump at the opportunity to do one more show, one more comeback, one more year. One of the younger members of the group; his energy is boundless.

“So, you gonna tell me where you’re going?”

“I thought I’d get a walk in… try combat the insomnia a little.”

“I could keep you company,” he offers, still smiling. “My sleeping schedule’s out of whack.”

“No, nonsense.”

Jingyuan can feel the panic rising in his chest, not wanting to seem like he doesn’t want to spend time with his best friend and hear all about his travels, but not wanting to blow Ren off. He knows he shouldn’t bend to his whims and be available at the drop of the hat, he deserves more than that - that’s what anyone sane in his situation would make of this predicament, but no.

Jingyuan’s priorities are skewed. He sees past the surface level, because he knows Ren isn’t just using him and stringing him along. It all comes from a place of pain and desire and repression and self hatred, it’s something he feels he needs to keep a secret and can’t risk giving into too often. Jingyuan will never think badly of Ren. That’s the problem.

He’s in love with him. And that doesn’t come with sunshine and rainbows, just responsibility and yearning and hypocrisy.

“We’ll go for coffee tomorrow to catch up,” Jingyuan reaches out and pats Luocha’s shoulder. “You need to rest. I’ll swap you some intel on our upcoming activities for some tales from the world outside of Seoul.”

“Throw in some dessert and you’ve got a deal,” Luocha concedes. “I’m still pretty out of it, you’re right. I just missed you a lot.”

“I missed you too, Luo.”

Jingyuan doesn’t notice how Luocha’s eyes stay fixed on him until the door swings shut. There are a lot of things Jingyuan pretends not to notice, too, because the truth of the matter would sting too much. Because there is a very good chance that Luocha’s feelings for Jingyuan are not purely platonic and not at all brotherly, and that they would be very, very good together. On paper. Mature, responsible, well matched on every level.

It’s easier to be oblivious to the fact that Jingyuan is to Luocha what Ren is to him.

The cold is milder compared to his last venture to the basketball court, the promise of spring hanging in the air. Soon, the flowers will bloom and cherry blossoms will fall, the pretty pink petals injecting beauty and life as they brighten up the grey of the city streets. And then, just as soon, they’ll wilt and fade.

Jingyuan has to remind himself that even when they do, there are still beautiful things to be seen. The sun will continue to shine and flowers will continue to grow. He could learn to love the peony, the dahlia, the the rose and the daffodils, the year-round offerings of the earth, but his heart would always belong to the sakura. The same sakura which adorned the branches of the tree he and Ren first kissed under, that trip to Japan to see their favorite group together at the Tokyo Dome. They were young trainees, just teenagers, who were slotted into a debut team line up together. It was one week after that trip that they found out their debut was cancelled, Jingyuan would be the first confirmed member of a new team - which became Infamy - and their plans for Ren involved a televised survival program.

In the back of his mind, Jingyuan wondered if that day had anything to do with it. The stolen kisses, the sneaking off, the eyes of other friends and managers who had gone with them that they thought they’d avoided so well. Were they caught? Separated to save their careers, their reputations, keeping them useful to the company, desperate not to lose two of their most talented trainees just because they couldn’t keep their hands off each other.

If that was the case, Jingyuan should consider himself lucky to have a career at all, not mourn the stolen years he could have been spending with Ren by his side where he could watch over him, protect him, love him.

“Jingyuan…,”

He looks different. Is it the reminiscing messing with his vision, or has something changed? He’s just like the eighteen year old version of himself, Ren who slept on the top bunk and asked so nicely the day he moved in if he could have it, not knowing that Jingyuan’s preference was the bottom anyway. Ren who wore oversized hoodies that hung almost halfway down his knees, drowning out just how slight he was. Through the years he began to put on muscle which only strengthened his innate talents in dance - but it seems to have wasted away again.

He tries to not point it out to him, to keep the worry off his face, because Ren isn’t his responsibility or his boyfriend, and he hates it when he acts in any way overprotective.

Ren is fine, he tells himself. Long promotional periods are tough, and The Rumor are just finished promoting their biggest comeback to date.

“Hi,” Jingyuan clears his throat. “You wanna play?”

He approaches him in silence, no answer or indication of his intentions evident on his stoic, pale face. Eyes that have seen so much, suddenly empty, void of humanity, let alone memory. Eyes that avoid Jingyuan.

“Blade?” Jingyuan whispers; he’s still coming closer, closer, even though his steps shrink in size, he doesn’t stop moving, gaze fixed firmly on some point in the distance.

And then, when they’re near nose to nose, close enough for him to feel Ren’s breath against his face, he finally looks up at him. “Jingyuan, can I… can I be Ren tonight?”

As soon as he speaks the words, Jingyuan’s shoulders slump, releasing all the tension he’d been carrying with him, the fabric of which was worry and longing and desperation to be with his soulmate again. He opens his arms and Ren collapses against him, clinging to his tshirt and burrowing his face into his broad chest, and Jingyuan is terrified to squeeze him too hard, he’s too fragile; and what if he scares him away?

They stand there for what feels like hours. Jingyuan is sure Ren hasn’t allowed himself to cry, hiding in his arms a lot safer than letting tears escape. Soon, Jingyuan can’t help himself, he presses a kiss to the top of his head, and thankfully, he doesn’t flinch. He clings on harder, and Jingyuan is pretty sure he can hear him mumbling his name over and over to steady himself.

“I’m here, Ren. I’m here.”

Tokyo. Almost seven years ago now. The pink petals in Ren’s jet black hair, the uncharacteristically girly giggle the sight elicits from Jingyuan. The way he couldn’t stop himself from reaching out, brushing it off and tucking an out of place strand of hair behind his ear as it fell. “Doesn’t quite suit your image, does it now?”

“I guess not. But you…,” Ren cocked his head as if contemplating something, then bent down and scooped up a handful of petals. “You would look so pretty.”

He held his closed fist high over Jingyuan’s head, teasing him, and Jingyuan couldn’t hold back the laughter. Ren mumbled something that sounded a lot like ‘So, so beautiful’ as he released his grip and watched the sakura blossoms being picked up by the wind, most of them landing to rest on the top of Jingyuan’s hair, almost in the form of a perfect flower crown.

“There.”

“Thank you.”

Ren had taken steps closer to him then, too, somehow it always seemed to be Ren in control for a short time, like he was giving them permission to act on what they didn’t dare think about, and then relinquishing it to Jingyuan. Because he trusted him. They kissed, Ren’s body somehow becoming one with Jingyuan’s, falling into him, secure enough to trust his strong arms would never let him fall.

Jingyuan pressed him closer and led the kiss, deepening it, using his tongue to part Ren’s shy, inexperienced lips. As he did, he nibbled on Ren’s bottom lip, and felt a twist in the pit of his stomach when the sudden sharp pain made him whimper into his mouth.

I love you - those were the words Jingyuan wanted to say more than ever that day, but he didn’t. It was too new and too scary and too impossible, too dangerous.

But tonight, in this basketball court, that sweet eighteen year old is now an impossibly broken man, and Jingyuan loves him still. “I love you, Ren.”

#jingyuan x blade #jingren #*#hsr fanfic #jingren fanfic #writing #hsr #blade smut #jingyuan smut #jingren smut

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pyrrhiccomedy · 1 year

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truly one of the most fun things about DMing Heretic is like

so in your typical tabletop game, if the PCs encounter a secretive cult that has strange magical powers and they give you an alternate mythology of the world or its creation or its gods, that’s like. the truth, right? like, it’s a convention of the medium. when you work hard to uncover a powerful cult and they tell your their secret lore, that lore is almost definitely factually correct. it goes along with the rule that any prophesy you hear in a tabletop game is almost definitely going to word-for-word come to pass before the end of the game.

but in Heretic, for every secretive cult you uncover, there are three other secretive cults that have been putting up with that secretive cult’s bullshit for hundreds of years, and all of them are like “ugh, those dumb cunts, they don’t know shit about shit” but then they all take exception to different things. and they all have their own, completely contradictory secret lore that nevertheless does seem to give them magical powers.

so your PCs are in a perpetual state of being like, okay, all of you are onto something, but apparently you’re all onto completely different things, and it’s up to me to figure out the truth

resulting in your PCs creating a new, fifth version of events for every other group to take exception to.

only half the people who claim to be prophesizing even have that power, and half of them are probably lying to you on purpose. you can also learn to prophesize, if that’s your thing, but while you’re learning how to do that, your bitter ideological opponents dumped all their exp into some kind of bullshit death magic, and the only prophesy you end up making is “oh, fuck, we’re all going to die”

who is christ? who is christ? you think somebody is just going to tell you who christ was? anybody who knows the answer to that question had to fight their way through the secret world with a flickblade and a whole lot of moxie to figure it out, they’re not gonna tell you, buddy. anyone who’s beheld the Glory is above these games and beyond your reach now, and anyone who hasn’t obviously doesn’t know how to get there. I’m not saying there are zero genuinely helpful people in the world, but anyone who wants to help you and has no ulterior motives and actually knows enough to be of any help to you knows better than to deny you the dignity of doing the work yourself.

you want a prophesy? here’s ten bitch good luck

#heretic #dice matters

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penname-artist · 1 year

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TELL US ABPUT WINDS HORSE PHASE

HEHEHEHE

when I say horse phase, I merely mean the time Wind was most interested in the subject. Windlifter has always loved horses - and I'll add more notes around that further down - but he was most prominent in his interest between the ages of 10 and 16.

Also a quick warning, this is me very quickly dumping ALL of my ten plus years of horse hyper-hyper-hyperfixation history into one backstory and I am not sorry

Both his parents and grandparents have owned horses off and on, so he's always kinda been "around" horses in some manner. But his parents didn't use theirs very much and they each went to new homes around the time of their second child (cue Hinto), so Windlifter only remembers the horses at his grandmother's home growing up

The areas he grew up around had lots of riding trails and many folks owned various livestock, so people would ride around all the time (which probably instigated it)

For the longest time growing up, he held a fascination with horse things on television (ie the Triple Crown races, etc), and although he isn't able to appreciate it now, he does think fondly of the time that he did [AN: added this because I'm the same way. I used to love the horse racing thing but then when I got more into actual horse knowledge and psychology and such, the whole sport just leaves a bitter fucking taste in my mouth.]

Often spent the whole day out in the fields with Hinto, watching horses and then going off to play their games. But they kept the two things separate; from an early age they were taught to respect the animals and not scare them.

Despite the fact that he was crazy about them, his grandmother wouldn't let him actually ride the horses until he was twelve. Or at least, that was the original deal. She decided to tone back to eleven when she took account of the fact he had done everything to convince her he was ready

There were four horses in the herd she had out there, although only two were properly fit for riding. Most were older horses, former cattle herders from their ranch before her husband's passing. Since then they'd been turned to pasture and left to roam.

The one that Wind was always the most interested in was a mare named, ironically, Wind Chime. She was probably some kind of Appaloosa from her build and colors, but she was a Mustang, wild caught - which was a big part of the reason grandma very quickly implemented 1. Respect horse, and 2. Be old enough to be sensible before you do aaaaaanything with riding

Wind Chime was bay in color with points (ie dark legs and ear tips), and had blanket spots across her rear and flanks. For being a relatively short horse, she moved 'big' and had wide-footed gaits. But she was a sweetheart, and extremely responsive to the very slightest tap.

Windlifter rode with WC for a long time, mostly just around trails and things, before moving onto his first job, and eventually moving away when he started with the lumberjack thing. WC passed away before he switched to PPAA though.

Post-fire station switch, Windlifter's actually gotten himself a nice mare, with a different name and look, but a similar quality to old Chime. She's a sweet horse, also a Mustang but a bigger build, potentially a little bit of Friesian blood. He ended up naming her Doe, even though he had a whole list of really thought out cool native names, simply because his grandmother really liked deer and how horses also had those big dark eyes. So, Doe it was. [AN: Doe, a deer, a fe-male deer-]

OKAY I SWEAR I'M DONE

CAN YOU TELL THAT I WAS A HORSE KID YET

#the answer is yes #disney planes #disneyplanes #planes fire and rescue #disney planes 2 #windlifter #hinto

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rynwayfarer · 2 months

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A Letter from the Past/Dear Little Me

Hello my friend, It has been a while since we talked, How are you doing, Is your life going well?

We have come quite a ways, From when we were young, Quietly watching, Quietly alone.

I wonder if you are, Looking back on, These tiresome days, Do you miss them?

I'm sure that things, Have changed for you, Much more than, For myself.

Are you happy now? Or are your days, Bitter with tears? Have you found some one you love?

If so, I'm happy for you, I pray that they are good to you, That they treat you kind, And throw a few jabs now and then.

If not, don't fret, You will find them, They may be under your nose, Waiting for you to see them.

Where ever you are, I hope you are well, I hope you keep moving, Forward, always forward.

I look forward, To the day we meet, For surely we will, It is our fate.

But when I get there, Please look back, And remember where we've been, Remember me as I am now.

For these years, Must have changed you, Ten years will do that to a person. Best wishes,

You from ten years ago.

----------------------------------------------

Dear Little Me,

I can't believe it's already been ten years since you wrote to me. I finally got your letter.

You know its funny, I always thought you had written a lot more, but I suppose you didn't really know what to ask back then. You did ask me some things of course, about love, about happiness, and if I missed the days you are living now.

To each and every one of them I can confidently answer yes; and no.

I did find love, a couple times, though I only asked one of them. And through them I learned what love truly felt like with no strings attached, no thorns, just someone who truly cared for me. They had a big heart, but they only had room for one person to love, and when they visited their old friend, well, I let them go because I loved them.

I also learned to love myself more. I know you probably think that's sappy an just a thing people say, but it's so important; and its a hard lesson to learn. I also learned that my way of loving is a bit different. I prefer companionship over the love you'd find on TV. A bit more on that later.

All that said, I also haven't found the love you asked me about. Right now I'm on my own, and for the time being, that's okay. I'm sure they are right under my nose like you said, but my heart is still freshly sore and not yet ready to try again. But when it is, I'm sure I'll find the one for me next time.

Like love I did find happiness too, I find myself happy with where I live, and the people I call my friends, and the artwork I do. But more than just happiness I found my other emotions too.

I found anger for those that do wrong by me and those I care about, and those that think its right to hurt others. I found sadness in the distance between myself and those I love, and the relentless passing of time. I found joy in the games I play with my friends, the walks I take in the woods, and the music I listen to as I walk home from work. I found envy for what I don't have, fear of the future, disgust at the unjust.

I've laughed harder, screamed louder, cried longer. I've felt the world that used to make me numb, and all of it, the good and the bad, is wonderful.

You asked me if I missed the days you live in now. Or the ones you will live from here out. And sometimes I do. I miss the simplicity of our life, though I'm sure you would tell me our life was anything but simple; and you wouldn't be wrong. But we had a routine, we didn't need to worry about rent, or taxes, or crazy corporate overlords. Though I have no doubt those are coming up soon. You're almost in college after all. I miss the places that used to be so familiar to me. The streets I could walk blindfolded. The infinitely small town, which is not so small any more.

But I also like where I am now. I talk to our brother more, our other siblings too. We're seeing a concert next month. I have roommates I like. I still have my friends from high school, well some of them at least. I also have friends all over the world. People so far from me that seeing them feels like a pipe dream, and yet we're pretty close. And I have met one of them. You'd cringe so hard if you knew where I work, but I love the people I work with and it makes it bearable. I love that I have the freedom to do what I want, if I want, and I get to sleep in on my days off. So I do like where I am now for the most part.

You also talked about change, and boy have we changed in the last 10 years. Or rather I'm mostly the same but I understand things better than when I was you. I learned to fight for what I believe in, and speak my mind, and I'm much more outspoken. It makes me come off a bit brash, but I've found people who appreciate that side of me. I learned that I'm Asexual, which likely isn't a term you've found yet, but its exactly what you've been telling people all along, you just didn't know it yet. I started taking some meds, they make me not hate myself when I look in the mirror. I'm sure you'll be looking forward to that, though it does require patience. Which I know you have, but it will still take a lot of it. I have plants! I know you think you have a black thumb but honestly, we're doing okay with them. I did cosplay! I bet you think I'm crazy for it, but it was fun to try. I've had a couple of those "Just Jump" moments, and all of them were scary, and all of them were worth it. And I've kept moving forward just as you said I should.

10 years. From where I'm standing it seems so short, though I know you will have trouble perceiving it from your end. The journey was good. It was worthwhile. I'll see you when you get here.

Love: The Future

PS: To the me 10 years from now. It's my turn to ask questions. First and foremost I hope you're doing well, and I hope you'll tell me about yourself. Did we make it? Was it hard? Did we stumble? Did we get back up again? How's the weather? Are you still playing games? Are our friends still around? Are you still living in the same place? Are our siblings good? How about our parents? What are your hopes and dreams? I'll be there soon I'm sure, and you can tell me all about it.

#ryn wayfarer #transgender #asexual #time capsule #letter

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redwoodwv-hq · 8 months

Text

Name: Valerie Laurent Age: 30 Town Occupation: Nurse / Part-time Bartender Previous Occupation: Nurse Redwood Resident Length: 4 months Faceclaim: Indya Moore

Bullet Points:

Lives in a spacious apartment near the solar panel yard

Her dream when coming to New York was to become a model. She even went to a few castings during her first few weeks but, without documents, they could not really hire her.

She was treated as the baby of the commune she lived with, and despite her tough upbringing, sometimes acts a little spoiled because of it. She definitely has the habit of getting people to do what she wants by sweet-talking them (whether that actually works is a different story).

She loves gossip, and when she’s working the bar, she spends a lot of time trying to learn about the latest, juiciest rumors and spreading them around town.

Despite her sometimes (seemingly) spoiled and childish attitude, she is absolutely not squeamish when it comes to blood and gore (she can’t really afford to be).

Ever since coming to Redwood, she has fallen back into her old patterns of addiction. She does her best to hide this, but she tends to sneak alcohol during her shifts at the bar.

One of her jobs, before she started working the streets, was at the bar of a strip club. She knows how to mix and serve drinks and uses this as a justification for her rather odd job combination, claiming that she knows how to work the bar and it relaxes her.

Biography:

Val’s early life wasn’t a happy one. She was born as “Chloe Harper” to her parents John and Catherine Harper. Her family seemed almost perfect from the outside, with John and Catherine being high school sweethearts who married almost as soon as they graduated and seemed to be going strong ever since. Except that it most certainly wasn’t as perfect as the Harper family tried to appear to be. John, a police officer, was an alcoholic. Chloe remembers often enough coming home from school to find her father passed out on the couch, bottle in hand. Her mother, Catherine, had become bitter with her marriage and taken to having affairs, none of which she bothered to hide from her daughter. Catherine ended up leaving John and Chloe without a trace when the girl was ten. This seemed to break their fragile household - John turned from a tired drunk into a belligerent, becoming verbally abusive towards his daughter, before escalating it.

Chloe doesn’t talk about what happened, but on one night, she knew she needed to get out. So, throwing what little belongings she could fit in her school backpack, Chloe left her home. The next few years were hard on her. She made her way to New York, changing her name from Chloe to Valerie to leave her past behind. When Val reached New York, she was broke, had no documents or a place to stay. Out of desperation, she quickly found herself taking on seedy jobs with people who had no interest in asking questions, before, finally, slipping into sex work.

Val doesn’t like to think about that time of her life. She worked the streets to survive, because she had no way out. Quickly, in order to cope with the stress of what was happening to her, she found herself drinking, which didn’t erase what was happening to her, but took the edge off of everything. She spent years living like this, working and drinking, hardly ever sleeping in a warm bed for more than a night at a time.

Val was sure she would have lived like this forever if a kind soul hadn’t taken pity on her. A former sex worker who had managed to leave the industry, they took Val in, to live in a communal house in Harlem. And while Val was still left with issues to battle, finally, at age 22, she found herself living in a somewhat stable home for the first time in years. Her life seemed to improve - her addiction was a constant issue, something she never quite managed to beat, but it got better with the help of her new found community. She even managed to start studying to become a registered nurse.

By the time the outbreak happened, she had been clean for about a year. Working in a hospital as a nurse in training, she found herself faced with the outbreak as it happened. Watching people not die when they should, coming back when they shouldn’t. Watching the infected lunge at her coworkers, anybody that came to near. Watching the hospital break down entirely, patients being airlifted, staff evacuated until there was nothing left.

Val’s commune broke apart just as quickly - people becoming infected, leaving for the countryside, few staying behind until they couldn’t handle it anymore. Val tried to cling onto the last bits of her home until she couldn’t - until raiders burned their house in Harlem down and Val was forced to flee.

She spent the next few years on the road. Her story isn’t special - she joined up with groups, watched people die, fought for her life when she needed to. Encountering Redwood was nothing more than pure luck - stumbling across the settlement after her most recent survivor group had disbanded. Redwood seemed like a godsend to her - just that some of the issues she brought from outside never quite left her. Not as much as she thought they did.

#redwood.characters

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artsyxabbyx · 1 year

Text

Not Your Hero

Chapter 3

Run Ins and Out Runs

Griffin stares at the angry eyes in front of him, searching for any kind of answer.

"Dad was never around, Grif. Mom took care of us the best she could as a single mother."

Once again, the man was stunned into silence.

"What are you talking about? She was never a single mother when I was around. She would cook for us nightly and dad would take us hunting, fishing and fighting almost every weekend."

Axel shakes his head violently while Griffin takes another step toward the shorter man.

"Who do you think taught you to fight the way you can? Did she teach you how to do that?"

"That's not our father. That may be mom's friend that agreed to step up to take his place, but that's no father."

Griffin lets out a bitter laugh "Is that what she told you?"

"Yes, and I would believe her over anyone."

He rolls his eyes as his brother keeps monologuing.

"Unlike you, dad and just about everyone else in the village, she hasn't left me."

Scoffing, Griffin walks past his brother, shoving him by the shoulder as he makes his way for the door instead.

"Just like she said you would, you're walking out on me again."

The reality of what was said hit him hard. Griffin had seen this situation unravel before. He had seen the way the truth could be twisted.

He heard the same foolish words that his brother was spouting, time and time again, just from different lips.

Griffin couldn't tell anyone the last time he heard something that his mother said from her own lips. He could remember what was said, every wound that was inflicted, every pained expression that passed the faces of the people around them.

Every time his mother said something about him that he heard, it was that Griffin, her own son, was nothing more than a vile beast. Without fail, she would follow it up with every accident he could have ever possibly made, blown out of proportion.

Shaking himself out of the memory, he glares up to Axel.

"You truly must be more naive than you look. I pray to whatever you might believe in that you receive mercy in place of the brains that you weren't blessed with."

Blind rage overtakes the smaller man as he throws his weight into Griffin's chest. The taller man didn't budge very much, but there was too much pain in his heart to truly care in the moment. Pounding his fist into his brother's abdomen angrily, he growled out.

"You don't know a single thing about me! You left before you could ever take the title of my brother! Who told you that you could just come back here, help me out on one thing, and then lecture me on a family tree that you were barely a part of?!"

With no real struggle, Griffin turned and aimed his fist to the bridge of Axel's nose. Tears sprout in the corners of his eyes. Blood dripped to the floor and stained the taller man's shoes. Another punch. Then another.

A sickening crack. Both men take steps back, panting heavily and trying to collect themselves. Griffin keeps himself to the left wall, and Axel to the right, holding his nose and letting his eyes water freely. Griffin drops his head and shakes it.

"I can tell you every single thing our father did for us and you're going to sit there, stare at me and say it was someone else? I can tell you for the ten years that I was a part of the family what we did and where we started to fall apart, WHY we started to fall apart, and you want to believe that she is the patron saint that saved you?"

Axel slides down the wall and sighs heavily, defeat clear across his face.

"Go ahead then. Tell me. Please, tell me the truth."

—---------------------------------------------------------------

"You look unwell." Obsidian eyes trail up and down the body in front of the oppressor.

"No thanks to you, my love."

A heavy sigh echoes through the room.

"You are in no state to voice your frustrations with me. You are the one who let my sons get away alive. Do not disappoint me again."

The woman's voice held no sympathy, which came as no surprise to the man in front of her. The man takes off his mask tainted with a smile as he nods.

"As you wish, Ximena."

#my work #my writing #writing #not your hero #book #new #villain x sidekick

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kyberphilosopher · 3 years

Text

Smile

Word Count: 3467 Requested: yes. Based off ‘505′ Warnings: strong hints to sexual disposition. Spoilers if you squint.

“I’d probably still adore you with your hands around my neck... I did last time I checked.” -Arctic Monkeys, ‘505′.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

With hoarse breath and unwavering eyes, you look up to the stars as you speak. “So, you’re really going to do it then?”

“I have to,” you hear him say. His voice has gotten far more mature and calm since the first time you’d heard him speak. Still angry and determined, but in an intelligent, adult way. Eren is a more capable person now. The only thing left to do is wait and see if that’s a good thing, or a bad thing.

“What do you think are the chances of winning?” you question. A shooting star whizzes across the sky at that very moment, and it’s gone before you can think of a wish.

You turn around to face him, but his eyes are already on you. Once upon a time, Eren’s eyes were emerald and teal and deep. Now they’re paler. They are cold and steady as a byproduct of who he’s become. It’s hard not to wonder what he’s thinking about when he looks at you like this, especially since he’s become harder to read over the years.

At first, Eren was one of the most insufferable people you’d ever met. He acted out so often, it was hard to see him as another person of intelligent life. You mostly just minded your business through your cadet years, usually hanging around Reiner, who was also difficult to see as intelligent life. Sometimes you and Eren would argue, but it was never passionate. You just had different world views.

Things got better when you found out what Eren really was. Since you hadn’t made top ten, you could only choose between the Garrison Regiment, or the Scout Regiment. And with Eren’s newly discovered power showing the promise of hope, you decided on the Scouts. He liked that.

After that, it was hard not to mature at the same time as he. Eren often blamed himself for the death and carnage that surrounded the regiment. You were solely responsible for the passing of your best friend. And after everything that happened with the government, almost dying at Shiganshina- you knew you couldn’t stand this much longer. With your relationship with Eren still budding in its early and steamy stages, he was the only one you told of your desertion. You abandoned the corps, finding a small, abandoned farm within wall Maria to hide out in.

Eren was too tired and sick of everything to think you were being cowardly. He wanted to leave too. Maybe come with you. But Eren had plans in the works that he couldn’t leave alone. He visited you less and less. Luckily you never made a fuss.

And now Eren wants to end the world, to save the world. How does he expect you to react to this?

“I just thought I should see you,” Eren replies. You know he’s deflecting your question. You’re not stupid.

You nod slowly, blinking as you think. “Am I going to die?”

Your companion crosses his arms calmly. “Yes,” he tells you.

There it is.

“You know I can’t support you in this, right?” you tell Eren, equally as calm.

He only replies after a moment, also in deep thought. “I know.”

You look back up to the sky, sighing out through your nose. “Why did you come, Eren? Did you want me to tell you that I think you’re doing the right thing? Or was it because you need to let out some anger? I wonder.”

“I did want to see you.”

“Do you still?”

Silence.

“Yes.”

“And I suppose there’s nothing I can do to change your mind?”

“No.”

The stars are glittering with pastel hues, like a rainbow, or kaleidoscope. Each one is a different size, bordering on different shapes, all fusing and melting together like your idea of heaven. You can barely even see the midnight color of the sky through all them. It is beautiful, but it’s also bitter. Everything is bitter, here.

“I didn’t make myself any dinner yet,” you say. “Couldn’t think of anything.”

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

When she was alive, Eren’s mother would make a soup for the family. It was creamy, hot, filled with meat and cheese at the bottom. Eren never liked soup, but he did love that dish. She was always sure to make extra for him, so that he could enjoy it for several days. And although it wasn’t until after she was gone that Eren realized he rarely ever thanked her for it, it was still one of the warmest memories Eren had.

He fills your wooden bowl with it, being awfully generous. He knows that even though you haven’t eaten much in the last few years, you too had grown fond of the soup. He knows no matter how slowly you force it down, you are enjoying it. It burns the roof of your mouth every time, but you’ve never cared. All that matters is the creamy sauce, and the cow cooked to perfection.

You stare at the fireplace beside you, flames cackling and licking upward. Eren sets the bowl in front of you, and takes the seat on the other side. You know he sets his long hair behind his shoulders. You’re already prepared. From your pocket, you produce a stretchy brown hair tie on the verge of snapping, handing it to him.

“Thanks,” he says, even though this routine has happened however many times he’s seen you.

“You’re welcome.”

The soup is as amazing as usual. You’re willing to bet Eren makes it even better than his mother did, but you dare not say it aloud. It’s creamy, perfectly seasoned. It goes down your throat, still steaming.

“Does Mikasa know about this?” you question, taking one more delicious bite.

“No. None of them do,” Eren answers. “Armin will figure it out soon.”

“You want me to kill ‘em?”

Eren shakes his head. To a lot of people, this would be taken as a joke. But this is nowhere near it. Your tone is too casual, too low for it to be humor of any kind. And the way the man across from you reacts- he’s thinking the same thing.

“No.”

“How are they, then?”

Eren thinks as he takes another bite, the warmth creeping up his chest sweetly. “They’re alright for now. I don’t know for how much longer. I can’t see everything.”

“Can you see who’s next?”

He squints at his bowl as if he were angry, but his eyebrows barely move. “Sasha.”

Sasha. She was always a good presence to have around. While she seemed like the type of person who would annoy you, it was hard to hate her. And you admired her keen intuition anyway.

“Will you give her something for me?”

Eren nods. Then you both go back to eating for a few seconds, basking in the orange glow from the flames.

“How are things here?” he questions after a minute.

“The same,” you tell him. “I think the cow might die soon.”

Some people might reply with condolences, or sympathy. But your lover does not, and you do not expect him to. “I’ll get you a new one,” he says flatly, almost like a promise. You nod once.

Despite the atmosphere which can only be described as bitter, you’re glad to see Eren again. You’re glad that he’s alive, and as alright as he can be. The bed is always colder without him, heated up only by your lingering fingers that you pretend are his every other night. Whenever he leaves an article of clothing behind, usually on purpose, you hold off on washing it so it can smell like him for you as long as possible. Then there are the hair ties you keep either in your pocket or on your wrist, specifically for him. The razors in your cabinet he often didn’t even bother using.

Even with the sullen demeanor that had managed to overtake both of you, there was at least one thing you cared about in the world still. Maybe it wasn’t the most conventional kind of caring, or the healthiest coping mechanism. But it was still caring. And all that you cared about was him.

You knew you weren’t Eren’s first priority. You were probably second, or third. It didn’t bother you. Eren’s head was one of the first things lost when the truth was presented to him. It came back coldly and sternly, in contrast to how previously hot and impatient it had been. But by then your head had also grown colder and sterner. In simpler terms, Eren did care for you. He did love you. But he would consider letting you die if it meant achieving what he set out to do, and you knew this.

Across the table, Eren lifts his head to look up at you as he chews slowly. The burning meal slides down his throat easily, albeit painfully. It doesn’t even register with him, his piercing eyes slowly gaining a glint from the fire light.

You meet his eyes after a few seconds, feeling them on you. You don’t say a word, don’t even give a questioning look. You just hold him patiently, which is something the two of you find yourself doing often.

“You can’t stop it,” Eren speaks, looking you dead in the eyes with a steady gaze. There is love behind his eyes, far behind the anger, but you can tell from the tone of voice he is trying to tell you something as if it were an order. Your lips part slightly from the intensity radiating from your lover, who doesn’t move a muscle. “You’ll be free soon.”

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Dinner ends. Eren helps clean up the dishes for you and goes to get water from your well so you can clean easier. You already know from the way his thumb brushed against your own when you took the bowls that you’ll likely be bent over the sink in a few minutes, which you don’t mind, but you wonder if he’ll be willing to be softer than usual as an apology for what he’d said earlier.

He’d meant to scare you. You’re intelligent enough to figure that out. Even though you don’t scare easy, and you didn’t even give an extreme reaction, the look in Eren’s eyes had made your heart drop to your stomach. Sometimes you forget that Eren sees everything. Then he says something like that to remind you in the most memorable way.

The wooden door opens and closes behind you. Boots scuff the ground for a few seconds, drawing closer and closer as something in you sparks with anticipation, as it always does. A pail of water hits the surface beside you, partially sloshing over the sides, shining silver in the moonlight from the tall window in front of you. Finally, ultra hot hands slide around your waist and push gently but tightly against where your ribs diverge.

A jaw leans down on your right shoulder, chin poking against your collarbone. Locks of hair brush against your own, just as the hand on the left runs across your side to finally put a small band in your pocket.

“I did miss you,” Eren’s low voice seemingly growls, his chest rumbling softly against your back.

“I was thinking about you,” you admit with monotone, knowing your lover can read through it like as easily as a knife slices through skin.

“I hope I didn’t worry you,” he says, though you can also read through his own tone. He probably didn’t care about worrying you. He definitely doesn’t still.

“You didn’t.”

You place a both bowls in the sink, running your fingers over the dirty spoons. Eren’s orbs follow your movement. You can feel his chin change positions ever so slightly in the coming seconds.

“Can you pass me the rag?” you ask, eyes focused on a piece of food on the spoon that doesn’t even exist.

In response, Eren doesn’t pass you anything. Only his right hand gives you any kind of acknowledgement, passing from on your ribs to down lower. His fingertips skin over the erogenous zone under the waistband of your undergarments.

“I worried about you,” Eren murmurs boldly. The hot fingertips pass under the cloth finally, pricks of stubble on his jaw scratching your neck and shoulder as he shifts. “I wanted you to be okay.” His left hand raises to grasp the breast above it. Slowly at first, then firmly, like a warning. Everything is a warning with him.

Your head lulls back uncontrollably. The back of your hair matts up as it rolls against his own shoulder.

“I said you worried me,” your partner grumbles. “Did you hear me?”

“No,” you lie lowly, refusing to let your voice shake despite the shiver in your throat.

“Mm,” Eren hums in condescending understanding. A force presses against your core, which has turned burning hot and ice cold at the same time. The force pulls away, a string of something smooth and slimy following it that makes a sound draw from your lips. It’s high pitched, weak, and unstoppable. You’d be embarrassed if you weren’t so associated with Eren.

His hand gives your breast a firm squeeze, soreness blossoming from the center. Your back arches quickly and returns lax against him, though now something pokes against your bottom that makes your eyes pop open with a new alertness. Eren’s hand gives you no time again. From your chest, it flies to your throat, holding it back with soft strictness as the other finally dips into the hot pool between your hips.

“I worried about you.”

A strangled groan releases from between your lips again, this time fully carried up through the air. To Eren, it must sound like nothing more than music, or background noise.

Thick cylinders pump inside you to the knuckle. They feel better than your own. They always have.

It feels good. Full. Tight and fast and like the inside of you is quivering under the weight of something that you can’t see or hear. Eren is like a blanket supporting you from falling over, keeping you upright with his grip and his fingers buried inside of you. Prodding every angle, every spot. Not necessarily romantically, but still lovingly. He has always had this goal during intimacy. Nothing matters but communicating to you just how close he wants to be.

“Eren,” you choke, a dribble of spit sliding from the corner of your lips.

“Again,” he hisses in response. His fingers hit a tight spot, making every muscle in your body clench at the same time.

You don’t say another word, your mouth hanging partially open as you focus on everything around you. And it’s all Eren Jaeger. His smell, his growls, his voice, his breathing, his chest, his muscles, his hair, his anger, his bitterness, his intelligence, his determination. It’s overwhelming. It reminds you of getting swept in one of those waves at the ocean he described to you. He’s yours. No- more likely, you’re his. End of story.

“I said again.”

“Eren,” you moan.

His head nuzzles into your neck comfortingly, his fingers pushing faster and harder. You can feel how warm you are, never mind how slick. And the way your own body holds around his digits every time he pulls away is enough to make you all the more warm and slick.

But then...

What is he doing?

He had said “you’ll be free soon”. And yet, here he is, gripping you tightly as he forces you into the corner of submitting. And yes, it is hot. It arouses you as it always has. But something about it makes your stomach turn into a knot of unpleasantness, in contrast to the other one of liquid pleasure.

“Eren,” you strain, squirming against him.

Eren speeds up again. A grunt falls from his own mouth from his own power, and you know he’s getting off almost as much as you are. It doesn’t stop feeling good. Feeling euphoric.

It’s getting rougher. Rougher and harder and faster, more intense.

“Eren.”

Another gruff moan from him.

“Eren! Stop! Stop!”

Eren’s palm softens away at once. It lifts away, his eyes opening and his hand stilling inside of you. He watches you shake as you gaze up to the ceiling, wide eyed. Your thighs sputter, entire body twitching. You didn’t cum.

His eyes trail over you. You’ve worked up a steady sweat glistening and glowing, shivering and shaking and quaking because of him in the best way. You’re his. His partner, his friend, his ally he knows for a fact he can rely on.

“C-can we... Eren...”

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Drips of water dribbling down Eren’s temple. One of your hands are threaded in his brunette locks, holding them back so you can have an uninterrupted view. The other hand is dabbing cloth against his forehead and hairline, bathing him softly.

He’d gone a while without bathing again. You could tell. Eren’s eyes are glued to yours, deep teal memorizing all the flecks in your own as if he hadn’t a million times over.

Eren loves you. Dearly. He’d travel all seven hours and forty five minutes just to tell you that. He doesn’t know what made you stop earlier. He doesn’t ask. But he’s not mad. Overall, Eren understands that it doesn’t matter what you asked to stop for. You give the word, he obeys. Not because he has to, but because he loves you.

Still, he knows something is wrong. You don’t show it. You’re steady, calm, mature, apathetic as always. But in the pit of Eren’s stomach, something brews. A warm, strange feeling of intuition and omniscience.

“You look very pretty today,” Eren ventures, wondering only of your response. “Did I tell you that?”

Your eyes squint. “Thank you,” you reply back.

The cloth continues to rub against his skin, cleaning something that probably doesn’t even exist. Dirt, maybe. Eren’s stopped taking care of his skin in the past few years.

“You’re welcome.”

Your eyes squint again. This time, they gloss over with sharp wetness like glass. The eyebrows crease like a break, your bottom lip trembling as you suck it between your teeth.

He doesn’t know what he was expecting. But your lover wasn’t expecting this.

Eren hates when you cry. He can remember the first time he’d seen it, but not the most recent. You didn’t cry often- you were strong. Crying over something as useless and flimsy as emotions didn’t seem worth it. So what was this for? What were you about to make Eren break down inside over?

Your hand falls limply from his forehead. Shoulders hunch over in defeat, staring down at the floor as your hair covers over your face. And then the sniffles come, choked out coughs like sobs.

Eren can see the lightest of bruises he’d left on you from earlier, but you’d never had a problem with it before. No, it was something else. But what?

Silent, your teeth grit together as you wince, tears streaming down your face inexplicably.

“Earlier w-when you,” you gulp, snot beginning to form, “when you- I did worry a-about you. I- I don’t know why I didn’t...”

You stumble forward. Eren stands from your bath tub to catch you as you slump against him tiredly.

“I hate it when you go.”

Eren switches positions with you, pushing you down to sit on the edge of the tub. He takes the wet rag from your hand and holds your shoulder back so he can have a good look at you. Then the cloth dabs against your own forehead, just as you had done to him.

“I hate it here,” you sigh, a single tear drop blurring your vision as it falls finally.

Your lover moves the cloth from your head to your cheeks, smearing the wetness into your skin and away. They moisten and dry, your eyes red and shiny. Eren tilts your head up under your jaw, creasing his brows and using the towel to clean closer to your eyes.

“If it helps,” he says, looking straight into your eyes, “you’re crying, but I still think you look pretty.”

You’d be lying if you said that didn’t help even a little, because you love him.

A soft smile creeps to your lips, your hands dropping in between your thighs.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

No I didn’t reread this lmfao enjoy. Hope I did you justice anon

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fridayfirefly · 3 years

Text

Sunrise on Gotham

Read Sunrise on Gotham on AO3

Masterlist

Written for Maribat March Day 29 - Wait!

Gotham wasn’t Marinette’s first choice for the location of their class trip. In fact, the grim American city hadn’t even made her top ten list. Marinette wanted to go to Amsterdam, a city rich with history and culture. But when Mm. Bustier announced that a vote for the class trip location would be held, the class voted almost unanimously. After all, Lila’s long-distance boyfriend, Damian Wayne, lived in Gotham. Wouldn’t it be great for Lila to be reunited with him? And Lila traveled so frequently that she had already visited all of the other cities Mm. Bustier suggested. Would it be fair to make her go visit a city she had already been to? Marinette scoffed as she overheard the class discussion. She knew that this was just another one of Lila’s lies, perfectly designed to manipulate the people around her into doing what she wanted.

Marinette kept her mouth shut while her classmates all decided to vote for Gotham. But that didn’t stop her from putting her checkmark next to Amsterdam on the ballots Mm. Bustier passed out. Maybe that would have been the end of Marinette’s bitterness if Lila hadn’t “accidentally” glanced at the ballots on Mm. Bustier’s desk she was leaving the classroom. Marinette could still remember Lila’s sickeningly sweet voice, feigning concern for Marinette, asking why Marinette wanted to go to Amsterdam so badly.

As Marinette scrambled for an answer, Alya turned to her with cruelty in her eyes. “I can’t believe you’re trying to sabotage Lila and Damian’s reunion. You’re so selfish, Marinette.”

Marinette didn’t bother replying - it never helped. As she left the classroom that day, she could see the disappointment in Adrien’s eyes. Her crush on the blonde model had long since faded, and alongside it went the rose-colored glasses she used to see him through, back when they were both thirteen. Now, four years later, all she saw was a selfish boy who cared more about avoiding conflict than actually solving problems.

Four months later, the plane landed in Gotham just as the sun began to rise. As her class walked from the airport to the hotel, Marinette felt herself zone out. Even though it wasn’t her first choice, Marinette could still appreciate the sight that was the Gotham skyline. Looming silver skyscrapers were framed by the gray, cloudy sky. As Marinette took in her surroundings, she began to wish that she could stop and get her sketchbook out. Ideas for a Gotham-themed fashion line popped up in her mind like weeds, and she needed to stop and pick them before she could properly zone back in. Gray was a color she had never properly worked with, which would make incorporating the color a nice way to challenge herself. In her mind, shades of gray instinctively started organizing themselves into the different ways she could pair them together.

“Wait!” A hand grabbed Marinette’s arm, pulling her back. Marinette gasped as she realized that she was about to walk onto the street, straight into traffic. She whipped around to face her savior.

The first thing Marinette noticed was his height. She was used to feeling short, at 5′2″, most people were taller than her. But he seemed to dwarf her. She figured he was 6′0″ at least. The second thing she noticed was the look of concern in his eyes. “Are you okay?” He asked.

Marinette nodded jerkily, trying to control her breathing. Having a panic attack alone in the middle of downtown Gotham would be just about the worst thing for her to do. She was supposed to be Ladybug, the savior of Paris, yet she was so unaware of her surroundings in a completely foreign city that she almost got killed in traffic. “I’m okay, I was just daydreaming,” she babbled, “Usually I’d be more aware of my surroundings, but I just got off of the plane and I’m not used to jetlag.”

The stranger had a bemused smile on his face as he walked her talk. Marinette blushed as she realized how dumb she must look to the handsome stranger. “Your accent, is it French?”

Marinette nodded. “I just got here from Paris. I’m on a class trip.”

“Where’s the rest of your class?”

Marinette looked around, trying to figure out which way her class went, but they were already gone, out of sight. “I’m not sure...” She trailed off. “But I have the address for the hotel on my phone, so I’ll be able to catch up with them there.”

“Gotham is known for being difficult to navigate. I can take you there if you’d like.”

“Sure,” said Marinette, pulling her phone out to check the address. “It’s called the Gotham Grand Hotel. It's on the corner of 7th Avenue and 22nd Street.”

“That’s about twelve blocks away. It’s pretty far. Are you sure you’re up for the walk?”

Marinette nodded. “I’m sure I can make it."

His smile returned as he introduced himself. “I’m Damian, by the way.”

“I’m Marinette,” Marinette introduced herself as Damian led the way.

A moment later, Damian's phone started to ring. He answered it while still walking. "Hello.”

A brief pause, then. “I’m on 4th Avenue, by the Starbucks.” Another pause as he listened to the person on the other end of the phone conversation. “I’m not free right this moment, but I will be in a few minutes." Another pause. "I'm helping someone get around the city. She got a little lost on her school trip, and you and I both know that the city isn't exactly safe when you don't know your way around it."

Marinette was beginning to wonder who exactly Damian was talking to, but she didn't want to be rude and interrupt. Instead, she got her phone out of her pocket and sent a quick text to Alya, telling her that she would be a little late because she got disoriented on the hectic Gotham streets.

"I'll be free until five tonight. Father's insisting that I come and have dinner with the family, and I have my internship afterward, from seven to nine." Another pause, this one longer. "I suppose that would work. I was planning on going out to eat at some point, anyway. I'll just have to ask Marinette if she's okay with it."

Damian put the phone down and turned to face Marinette. "My boyfriend, Jon, offered to pick us both up and drop you off at your hotel on our way to get brunch. If you don't feel comfortable with that, I understand."

"Oh, it's perfectly fine," Marinette assured him.

Damian frowned slightly before replying to his boyfriend. Marinette knew that Damian probably thought she wasn't being cautious enough, but she didn't care. After four years as Ladybug, Marinette was confident that she was capable of taking care of herself.

A minute later, a car pulled up beside them. “This is Jon’s car,” said Damian as he grabbed the door for her.

“Thank you,” Marinette smiled in return as she pulled her suitcase in after her. "Hello, Jon. I'm Marinette."

"Welcome to Gotham, Marinette." Jon leaned past the driver's seat to shake her hand. Marinette noticed that he had a very friendly face: a nice smile and kind eyes. "How are you enjoying the city?"

"It's nicer than I expected, I suppose, but I didn't exactly have high expectations. Gotham has a reputation in Europe for being the worst tourist destination in America."

Damian nodded. "That sounds like Gotham. It'll grow on you, though."

"Like a fungus," added Jon.

"If you say so." Marinette cast a distasteful look out the window of the car at the gray streets.

"Do you have any plans for lunch?" asked Jon.

Marinette shook her head. "Not really. The hotel has a restaurant on the ground floor, but their lunch menu is pretty limited. I'm vegetarian, so my only option is a salad."

"Would you like to come to brunch with us?" offered Jon.

"Are you sure you want me there?" Marinette didn't want to be a third wheel if brunch was supposed to be a date between Jon and Damian.

"Of course," said Damian.

"Alright. I don't think I'll be missing anything if I go with you. Our itinerary keeps us pretty busy at the beginning of the trip, but we were given today to rest up, to help get rid of the jetlag. I switched my sleep schedule a week ago, though, so my body is already running on Gotham time.”

Damian nodded thoughtfully. “Do you want to check the itinerary, just to be sure?”

Marinette shrugged. “It can’t hurt to check it one more time.” She pulled the paper out of her suitcase. “Our class doesn’t have anything planned until tonight. We have dinner at a restaurant called..." Marinette consulted her itinerary, "The Coast, and then we’re seeing Wicked at one of the theaters downtown.”

“I've been to The Coast before with my family. They have very good vegetarian options. It is very expensive for a high school class trip,” Damian noted.

“I go to an accelerated school. The school has a very large budget, due to the amount of tuition, and the number of alumni who give back to the school.” Marinette shrugged, a nervous tick. She didn’t like talking about how much her tuition cost. Even with her 50% scholarship to Francois Dupont, tuition was still a struggle sometimes. Her parents didn’t make that much money from the bakery, and compared to the elite professions of some of her classmates' parents, Marinette was often considered to be poor. It left her feeling out of place, guilty every time she felt embarrassed by her working-class parents.

“That sounds-“

Marinette continued to babble. “I’m grateful for the opportunities that François Dupont gives me. Much more grateful than a lot of my classmates, anyway. Some of them only read the itinerary for the first time on the plane ride to Gotham. One of my classmates, Chloé, threw a fit because she believed that the entire trip would be a shopping spree through Gotham. Other students got mad for other reasons. One of my classmates made some promises that she had no business making - telling everyone that we would be getting way more free time than we were actually given. It’s a shame. I used to love being a part of Mme. Bustier’s class, but everything fell apart after...”

Marinette stopped half-way through her sentence and stared down at her hands as she realized that tears had sprung to her eyes. She felt the red flush of embarrassment begin to overtake her face. "I'm sorry."

"You don't need to apologize. It sounds like you have a lot going on with your class at the moment."

"That's putting it mildly," said Marinette. "It's been... difficult, to say the least."

"Do you want to talk about it?" asked Jon.

Marinette shook her head. "Not really. Even if Gotham wasn’t my first choice for our class trip, I still want to at least try to have a good time.”

“What was your first choice?” asked Damian, a hint of curiosity to his voice.

“Amsterdam,” said Marinette longingly. “But Lila wanted to visit her boyfriend in Gotham, Damian Wayne, so the whole class ignored the fact that Gotham is the most crime-ridden city in America, all so that Lila could visit her boyfriend.”

Damian looked shocked. “Did she say her boyfriend is Damian Wayne?“

Marinette nodded. “Uh, yeah.”

Jon snorted. “I know that you like girls too, Damian, but I figured you would tell me before adding a third to our relationship.”

Damian rolled his eyes, quipping back something just as clever. Marinette was too stunned to listen, as she realized that the rich and powerful Damian Wayne whom Lila claimed to be dating was the same Damian who helped Marinette on the streets of Gotham. Marinette stuttered out, “I didn’t- I didn’t realize that you- you’re Damian Wayne.”

Damian chuckled. “I can tell. I have to admit, I’m not used to not being recognized. I'm pretty famous around Gotham."

“The Billionaire Bisexual Ice Prince of Gotham,” quoted Jon with a grin on his face. “The tabloids love Damian.”

“It’s unfortunate, but it can’t be helped. The tabloids obsess over everything even slightly unconventional, and to them, the bisexual bastard son of billionaire Bruce Wayne is the perfect target. Even more so when he started dating another man.” Damian's voice was smooth, but there was an undercurrent of bitterness to it. Marinette got the sense that he didn't often open up about his relationship, for fear that the media would not be kind about it. Marinette sympathized. Françoise Dupont had been a progressive school: they had a GSA and a no-tolerance policy (not that the policy was ever upheld). She hadn’t been bullied, per se, for being bisexual, but she had experienced the all too familiar feeling of being othered for who she happened to love.

“Nice use of alliteration,” said Jon. His words would have lightened the mood if it wasn’t for the slight strain to his voice.

It was obvious to Marinette that this was a sore subject between the boys. “So how long have you two been dating?” asked Marinette, hoping to lighten the mood.

“Two years, but we’ve been friends since middle school,” answered Jon. “Damian was the world's most uptight twelve-year-old, so I took it upon myself to get him to loosen up. We became friends and everything since then just sort of fell into place.”

“An apt recounting, even if it omitted some pertinent details.” Damian conceded.

“Like what?”

“Like the fact that I was the one to ask you on a date, and you were so shocked that I had figured out that you were bisexual that you dropped the glass in your hand, shattering it,” teased Damian.

“I thought I was being subtle about it,” Jon defended.

Marinette giggled. If she could just spend all of her time with Jon and Damian, rather than her class, she might just have fun on her class trip.

Damian turned to Marinette. “He had a pride pin on his jacket and listened to Carly Rae Jepsen. Subtlety is not, and has never been one of Jon’s string suits.”

Marinette noted that she had a pride pin of her own attached to the front strap of her backpack. Most people never took any note of it - Marinette had quite a few pins on her backpack - but Marinette got the feeling that Damian was aware of it.

"We're here," said Jon, parking the car in front of a little café.

"Café Carlisle has good vegetarian options," Damian assured her as he opened up her car door and helped her out. "They make a superb gourmet grilled cheese sandwich and tomato basil soup. I would recommend it to anyone."

"That's pretty high praise. I get the sense you don't give false compliments."

"I don't." It was a simple answer. Marinette was beginning to get a clearer picture of Damian, who didn't waste unnecessary words but was never afraid to speak his mind.

"Then it had better live up for expectations," teased Marinette.

Damian smiled at her as he held open the door to the restaurant. "It will."

As Damian led Marinette to a booth in the back of the restaurant Marinette caught sight of the reflection of her little group in one of the windows. There was a look on Jon's face that Marinette wasn't sure how to interpret. He had a smile on his face, but it wasn't the joking smile Marinette saw a lot of in the car. It was more of an indulgent smile, giving Marinette the sensation that Jon knew something that she didn't. Marinette wanted to turn around and ask him what it meant, but part of her brain begged her not to ruin this budding friendship before it had even begun.

Marinette had only known Damian and Jon for twenty minutes but already had the strangest feeling that there was a connection between them, some sort of relationship that needed nothing more than a little bit of shown vulnerability to create a deep bond. The only thing Marinette could think to liken it to was love at first sight, but it was beyond that. This wasn't infatuation or obsession (both of which Marinette knew well from her days of crushing over Adrien). This was deeper. This was the knowledge that Damian and Jon had seen her vulnerability and had embraced it, showing vulnerability in their own way. Neither boy had said it out loud, but given that they had both closed themselves off from physical affection as soon as they were in public, Marinette made the assumption that any sort of public display of affection was off-limits to them anywhere that the tabloids could see. It put the fact that they had been incredibly open about their relationship in a new light. It reassured Marinette that she wasn't just imagining their connection. Damian and Jon must have felt similarly about her to be able to talk to her about their relationship.

"Marinette?" Damian spoke her name, snapping Marinette out of her thoughts.

Marinette blushed. "Sorry, I tend to daydream a lot."

Damian smirked. "I'm aware. You almost wandered right into traffic the last time I caught you daydreaming."

Jon stifled a laugh. "What could you possibly be thinking of that would make you so focused that you managed to ignore the traffic right in front of you?"

Marinette launched herself into a spiel about her newest design inspiration, explaining as she went that she was incredibly passionate about fashion and designs and that her designs often had her zoning out for hours at a time. Jon and Damian looked so interested in her explanation that Marinette blushed, not used to having anyone's undivided attention.

Marinette wasn't yet certain where she stood with Damian and Jon in terms of the relationship between the three of them, but she couldn't wait to find out.

@maribatmarch-2k21

#maribat #Damian Wayne #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #daminette #maridami #marinette x damian #MaribatMarch2021 #miraculous ladybug fic #my work

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halaboyz · 3 years

Text

–– COFFEE // WOOYOUNG.

pairing: barista, blockmate! wooyoung x gn! reader genre: fluff, a pinch of angst ;; kind of slow-burn grr word count: 4.7k warnings // notes: profanities, poorly written, no more that i know of ;; mentions of this one-shot <33, still can be read alone though!

Wooyoung grimaced as he looked at his friend, Jongho, being lovey-dovey with his partner at the corner of the cafe, unconsciously gripping tighter on the glass he was currently wiping.

“What’s your problem with them?” Yeosang, who was beside him, sneered at the obviously bitter man. “You basically brought them together, what are you so disgruntled for?” Yeosang threw him a glare because, unlike Wooyoung, Yeosang was happy for Jongho.

“First of all, excuse you, I am not anywhere near disgruntled for Jongho,” Wooyoung immediately changes his face to a happy one, “Secondly, my only problem with them is that they are flirting in my cafe,” He explained, pointing a finger at Yeosang as if making a point.

“Correction– your parent’s cafe.” Yeosang scoffed, “Wait–” Yeosang stops in his tracks and gasps at Wooyoung. “Don’t tell me.. you like–” Wooyoung quickly drops the glass he was wiping on the table to cover Yeosang’s mouth, glaring at him.

“I think the fuck no,” Wooyoung hisses, pushing Yeosang aside to welcome the entering customer.

Wooyoung washes his hands and wipes them on the apron on his hips, pulling a smile on his face as he leans on the counter.

“Welcome! what would be your order?” Wooyoung beams, stealing a glance once more at the couple at the corner of the cafe.

“I'd like a large hazelnut latte and a slice of blueberry cheesecake, please,” You smile at him, anxiously tipping on your toes as you giddily looked at the defined man in front of you.

“Name please?” Wooyoung didn’t bother looking at you, finding his eyes trail back to the couple.

Meanwhile, you frowned in your place, taking a glance to where his eyes keep landing, realizing.

“Ah..” You just sigh, slowly nodding your head. “Batman,” You pout, looking at the screen in front of you instead of Wooyoung.

“What?” He finally lifts his head to meet your eyes, but you were too disappointed to look at him.

“Just.. Batman.” Letting your head down and handing him your card, you heave a sigh.

He looks at you with a discerning eye, jotting down.. Batman on your cup.

“Here’s your card. We’ll call out.. Batman, if your order is done. Is it to-go?” He asks, trying to meet your eyes.

You just shake your head and give him a small smile, briefly meeting his eyes and then running to a table where your friends welcome you with an expecting smile.

“So! Did you have a little talk?” Yeonjun asks, making you seat beside him. “Of course, more than ordering,” Changbin adds, propping his elbows on the table to lean closer to you.

“Yeah.. That’s kind of it,” You mumbled, pursing your lips. “He didn’t even know my name.” You smiled at them, growing sadder every second.

Jung Wooyoung, a senior you have had a crush on for almost a year already, a part-time barista on your favorite cafe, and just him existing as one of the most adorable, handsome and kindest and softest– maybe you’ll just stop there, or you’ll take a whole day complimenting the man.

Apparently, you were going to try asking him out today if it weren’t for you going inside your shell once again at the disappointment of him not even knowing your name, nor recognizing you.

“You have eight classes together.. and you’re telling me, he doesn’t even recognize you?” Changbin scoffs, leaning back in his seat, and crosses his arms over his chest.

You just nod in defeat, feeling all your energy drain out of you.

“Of course, he likes someone else,” You mumble, your eyes landing back to the couple three tables away from you, Yeonjun and Changbin’s eyes following it.

Both of them share a look, sighing.

“Sorry for that,” Yeonjun mumbles, hugging your side and caressing your arms.

“Batman!” Wooyoung’s voice rings in the room and everybody’s eyes travel around the room for who the fuck would give the name batman as Changbin and Yeonjun stifled a laugh.

You let your head down, walking your way to the counter to get your order with embarrassment sinking in.

“Thank you, enjoy.” Wooyoung simply says as he hands you the tray, letting you plod your way back to your table. Looking at your slouched back, Wooyoung intently watches you with a growing smile on his face, though unconsciously.

You run inside the cafe for the fifth time this week, now in a rush with your class starting in ten minutes.

“Hi, usual?” Wooyoung welcomes you, and you nod with a rushed smile to dig in your bag for your wallet. Wooyoung prepares your usual morning order– hazelnut latte.

It was one of those classes where Wooyoung wasn’t, so he helps out his parents at their cafe nearby to pass by his leisure time– well, not that he’s obligated to, but to see his crush, which is now Jongho’s partner.

“Uh, are you okay?” You stop his train of thoughts when you realized he was spacing while making your coffee, craning your neck.

“Oh, uh, sorry.” Wooyoung smiles, handing you your coffee as you pay. “Thank you, stay safe,” before you let Wooyoung’s words sink in, you had given him a smile before scurrying outside to run to your class.

“Where the hell were you?” Yeonjun pulls you inside in a rush, immediately taking the free seats at the back of the room.

“I slept late, I needed coffee.” You simply stated, sparing him a glance.

“Yeah, like, every day,” Yeonjun sarcastically remarks. “Just admit you want to see Wooyoung every day and go,” He chuckles, nudging you.

“Does that make a difference?” You glared at him, focusing on the professor who just entered the room and even had to pinch Yeonjun’s side to make him stop teasing.

“What’s your next class?” Yeonjun smirks, aware of his own question.

“Lit,” You feigned innocence, shrugging and putting your stuff back on your bag.

“Oh, the one with Wooyoung,” Yeonjun cooed, poking your sides. “Do you think he’ll finally recognize you?”

“I have a class with him every day, Yeonjun. I also visit the cafe every day. I don’t think he will anytime soon, or actually, I just don’t think he will.”

Yeonjun pouts at your negativity, pushing you lightly.

“Hey, what makes you think of that?”

“Well, I just realized his crush was in all of my classes too,” You smiled at him, “And he sits with them too, along with Jongho.” Your smile slowly drops, closing your locker. “you’re going to be late for your next class, Yeonjun.” You smile at him, patting his arm. He looks at you worriedly, making you chuckle. “I'm fine, Yeonjun. It happens every day. I'm already immune to pain,” You laugh out, finally leaving him first after a light hug.

You walk to your next class and as usual, you’re early which makes you sit at your unspoken place, the last row.

After writing your name on the attendance sheet, you have indulged yourself in reading your notes as the room gets crowded and crowded, but the seat next to yours wasn’t. It wasn’t anything new though, the room was big, and the last row was too far from the front.

It wasn’t also because this was your least favorite class, not at all. But you really weren’t one to listen to your literature class, just jotting down the lessons to review for the exams.

You were about to flip a page of your notebook when a bag of cookies is placed atop of it, making you jump. You blinked continuously, whipping your head up to meet the man.

“Figured you haven’t had breakfast yet,” You just watch him drag the chair beside you, taking his seat comfortably.

Jung Wooyoung – why the fuck are you sitting beside me?

You just stared at him dumbfounded, watching his every move.

“What?” he deadpans, staring at you. Your eyes darted around the room, looking for the couple he had always tailed with. “Who are you looking for?” His eyes follow you, landing on the couple. “Ah,” He simply breathes out, going back to tug at his notebook on his bag.

Your eyes glance back at him and back to the cookies, not knowing what to say.

“I– uh, am okay,” You push the bag of cookies back, though really tempting, but you weren’t close enough to accept it and ignoring the butterflies in your stomach.

“Eat. The prof won’t see you this far,” He didn’t bother looking at you and kept on bringing things out of his bag.

“It’s not that, I just.. Uhm,” You stutter, trying to find words to form a sentence. It’s not just an order of hazelnut latte you had always practiced before ordering, or maybe the confession you had practiced multiple times before, but something else, a conversation you wouldn’t expect in your life.

“Just take it,” Wooyoung senses your hesitance and finally looks at you with a smile. “It’s fine,” He nods at you, opening the bag for you.

You warily take a cookie, mumbling a thank you and leaning back to your seat.

“Batman,” He mumbles, giving you a light chuckle. “I never got your name.” that’s because your eyes were only on her.

“y/n.” You smile anyway, offering him his own cookies. He softly rejects, making you eat more.

“Jung Wooyoung.” He smiles back, reaching for your hand.

“I knew that,” Before you even think of it, it spills out of your mouth naturally.

“Oh, you did?” He breaks out to a smug smile, making you chuckle. “How?” he dotes on you, raising his eyebrow.

“well, the thing is, I had a crush on you,” the thing is– now, you think you’re falling in love.

Wooyoung, clearly taken aback, chuckles after a while of deafening silence even with the professor and your mates’ continuous chattering.

“Which is, obviously, in the past.” You clear the tension right away, shifting on your seat and finally looking at the professor.

Being your introverted self, you guessed that maybe, it was that conversation that would bring Wooyoung away– which is, what you were wishing for as you just embarrassed yourself.

But your honesty was what drew Wooyoung closer to you.

Day after day, it has become a routine for you to come to the cafe to order your usual, then Wooyoung practically begging you to wait for him, even if he still has no class right after.

“Hey, wait for me!” You stride faster out of the cafe, sighing. “You wouldn’t wait for your crush?” Wooyoung catches up with you, a coffee in his hand too.

you aren’t helping me stop my feelings, Wooyoung, really.

I don’t want to fall in love with someone in love with somebody else.

You thought as you squint your eyes at him, sighing for the nth time.

“It’s been a month I last told you that, Wooyoung. Please let go of that already,” You enter the gates of your university, glancing at your wristwatch.

You realize Wooyoung wasn’t beside you anymore so you look back, and you see him slowing down. You stop in your tracks, waiting for him with your arms crossed over your chest.

Meanwhile, Wooyoung doesn’t know what stroke him. Your words, merely careless words left your mouth gave a stinging sensation in his heart. Wooyoung doesn’t know either– but he doesn’t want to let go of the fact that you had a thing for him, even though it was in the past.

Not realizing the fact that you were waiting for him, a hand snakes around his shoulders cheerily and for a second, he gives the biggest smile and he almost lets the frown take over his face after, disappointed it wasn’t you.

“Why are you here? Where’s Jongho?” he asks, his eyes finding you, only to be disappointed more to see your retreating figure.

“Exactly. I'm waiting for him.” Jongho’s partner– Wooyoung’s friend, follows his eyes and gets excited. “Hmm, you like ‘em?”

Wooyoung shrugs out of the hold, walking ahead to escape the continuous cooing from his friend.

“It’s morning, what’s with the long face?” Changbin welcomes you with a hug, dragging your chair for you.

“Was I frowning?” you shrug, taking your seat and focusing on taking your book out of the bag.

“What is it?” Changbin sighs, looking worriedly at you. You give in and told him what you just saw, feeling your heart slowly falter once again. “What? I thought something was finally there.” Changbin pouts, caressing your back.

“Well, it’s not just you.”

Really, you thought a spark was finally forming between you, with Wooyoung’s continuous doting every day, it was only right for you to feel something like that.. right?

But the moment his face lit up when he saw his friend, obviously not moved on, your world crumbled along with your hope.

“Your next class?” Changbin asks, whipping his head to face you. You didn’t even pay attention the whole class, throwing your head back.

“Chem,” You state, slowly putting your things back into your bag.

“That’s with Wooyoung, right?” Changbin pouts at you, thinking of what to do. “That’s okay, you’ll be with Yeonjun. If you want, just avoid Wooyoung,”

And so you do.

Not heading right away to your chem room, you wait for Yeonjun outside his room. Praying to the gods for Wooyoung to be running a little late, you sat in the corner and dragged Yeonjun beside you.

“What’s wrong?” Yeonjun whispers, the chattering in the big room too loud for you to hear each other normally.

“Nothing, I'll.. tell you later.” You smile at him, seeing Wooyoung stop in his tracks on the doorsill in your peripheral vision.

Yeonjun nods and senses your so he continuously caresses your hair to calm you.

Wooyoung scoffs and takes the available seat two rows down, harshly taking his things off his bag. You just watch him with a frown, thinking of all possible things that happened to him that made him aggravated.

“Yeonjun,” You glanced at your friend, packing your things up. “It’s your break, right?”

“Yep,” Yeonjun smiles at you, grabbing your bag which has become a habit between friends.

“My treat, let’s go eat some burgers,” You drag him by the arm, ignoring the daggers Wooyoung sent your way.

“Oh, not your usual coffee and cake now?” Yeonjun teases, swinging your bag and his bag over his shoulder and swings an arm over your shoulder.

“Do you not want some burgers cause you know I can just–”

“Let’s go!” Yeonjun cuts you off and beamed, wriggling the both of you out of the university. “Changbin will burst if he hears about this.”

“Who says you’re the only one I'm treating? You’re not special, Yeonjun. I'm buying Changbin too,” You walk ahead of him, backward as you laughed at his disappointed face, getting a glance of a familiar silhouette far behind.

“Fuck him,” Yeonjun mutters after hearing you, taking a bite of his burger. “Don’t you think he lead you on too much?”

“He didn’t do anything wrong, Yeonjun. It’s all on me,” You sighed, setting your burger down. “In the first place, I said that it was all in the past when it wasn’t. He wanted to be friends, I let him.”

Yeonjun just stares at you, caressing your hand.

“It’s okay, y/n. You’ll find many others there, do you want me to find one for you?” Yeonjun puckers his lips jokingly, giving you a seducing look.

You break into laughter, pushing his face away.

Internally, you’re really, really thankful for your friends to have them by your side on your first heartbreak.

Well, you thank your friends– not for long.

They were both on the rap club, and battling for the nationals.. you were left alone.

Wooyoung wasn’t dumb. For the past week, he knew you were avoiding him, effectively making him annoyed for no reason.

No coffees ordered in the morning, no sitting beside each other, it was like you’re both back on square one, except that Wooyoung didn’t stick to the couple anymore.

Which, actually, he didn’t know why. Yes, he liked his closest friend’s partner– but they liked Jongho, which result in him being alone with them in two more classes, just realizing how he never noticed you when you got eight classes together.

“You’re off lately,” They nudge Wooyoung, who was in his own world. “You’re thinking about the one last week, no?”

“You blabber a lot,” Wooyoung pushed them aside, focusing on his notes while waiting for his first class in the school’s yard. “Go wait for Jongho somewhere else,”

“They’re sleeping in class,” They give Wooyoung a sly smile, standing up and dusting off their pants. “I think they might need some coffee.” They wink, leaving Wooyoung with a leap.

Wooyoung delves in his own thoughts, sighing as he takes his things and walks to the cafe before his first class.

“Hey,” Your seatmate nudges you, waking you up from your nap. “Class is done,”

“Oh, thank you.” You smile at her, mumbling a small sorry before letting her leave.

If it weren’t for your brain overthinking overnight, you wouldn’t have to fight your sleep in your bio class. If it weren’t for your lazy ass not going to the grocery to buy yourself coffee beforehand, you wouldn’t have to think if traveling three miles away from your school to buy a coffee for yourself just because you’re avoiding Wooyoung.

You tiredly walk to your next class, plopping to your usual seat and putting your head down the desk while waiting for your professor.

“Hey,” you jump at the sudden cold, wet plastic attached to your neck briefly, glaring for a second at the man behind the action.

“Wooyoung,” You immediately back away ever so slight which goes noticed by Wooyoung.

“Figured you’d need one.” He mutters with a frown, putting your hazelnut latte beside you. “Sorry if I scared you,” And he went to find another seat available– even though the one next to yours was.

It continued for a few more days, and you were getting guiltier with every cup of coffee you got from him. Oh, you tried resisting his continuous and dedicated coffee deliveries that were free, but now– it was him avoiding you.

“Do you want us to be honest with you?” Changbin sighs through the phone, and you can hear Yeonjun practicing his rap in the background.

“I'd appreciate that.”

“Just go talk to him. Not to return the coffee, no. Just a.. casual talk, maybe,” Changbin explains further on what you should do, but let’s be real– you’d eventually blank out once you’re in front of Wooyoung.

So you just walk mindlessly to the cafe, praying for Wooyoung to still be there.

And to thank the gods later for answering your prayers.

“Hey.. uh,” You walk to the counter, your hands flying to your pockets.

Wooyoung, surprised that you’re finally here right in front of his eyes after weeks, widens his eyes. his mouth keeps on opening and closing. Trying to form words but to no avail.

“I uh..” You stutter, biting your lip in nervousness. “Can I get my usual dine-in, please?” You warily smile at him, disappointed at yourself.

You’re here to talk to him, what the fuck are you doing.

“Sure. Grab a seat and I'll just.. take it to you.” He halfheartedly smiles, turning his back to you to get to business after handing you back your card and your receipt.

You aren’t sure why you’re feeling butterflies when you’re supposed to be entirely nervous. Was it because he’s going to bring you your order to talk to you? Actually, you don’t know yourself too.

And just right on time, Wooyoung brings you your order and you really, really expect him to take a seat in front of you to talk.

But to see him turning his back once again, your instincts got the best of you and you grab the hem of his shirt timidly, staring at him.

“What time are you free?” You blink at him, feeling your heart beating more than normal. “Can I talk to you?” Your grip on his shirt tightened, and Wooyoung just stared at it.

“I can’t. We can talk next time,” And before Wooyoung can process his own words, he was pushing your hand away to walk back to the counter, where a grumpy Yeosang stood and looked at him as if all the disappointment fell on Wooyoung.

“What the fuck?” Yeosang deadpanned, tailing Wooyoung with an indescribable, scrunched face. “You wait for them every morning of these past weeks, you rant to me about how she’s avoiding you, then you try making it up with a bunch of morning coffees– and now when she’s wanting to talk to you, we can talk next time?” Yeosang mocked, growing frustrated to the man who now has his back slouched.

Wooyoung simply sighed and continued wiping the almost invisible counter, glancing at the glass doors to see your reflection.

Sighing, you just sipped on your coffee, trying to grasp the situation while staring at your perfectly sliced cake.

At least he didn’t hide the fact that he wasn’t comfortable talking to you.

You look at the kid beside you who was also staring at your cake, the guardian in front of the kid too busy on their paperwork.

“Would you like some?” You offer the kid which earned you an earful of rejection from the guardian.

“It’s really okay, I lost my appetite and the kid’s been staring at it so.. Better than throwing it, right?” The guardian just thanks you, and you smile at the kid, seeing them finally enjoy the cake as you grab your things and coffee.

You stopped and looked at Wooyoung for a second, waiting for him to look back to at least bid you goodbye, but only his friend behind the counter smiles at you apologetically when Wooyoung entered the kitchen.

You sighed and smiled back at Wooyoung’s friend, exiting the cafe with a heavy heart.

Unfortunately for Wooyoung, even with his cold shoulder, that didn’t stop you from going every day to try and talk to him in class, and on the cafe.

His continuous excuses of “I can’t,” “I have a group project to finish,” “Have an assignment to pass,” and, “I'm busy,” continue to push you away, but you weren’t getting a bit tired and somewhere near it.

So with the finals approaching, you tried your best, really, but when projects just came piling up and you can’t come to bother Wooyoung for three days straight, he was confused all over again.

Closing the cafe with a huff and the feeling of disappointment filling up his whole body of not seeing you, and confusion of your feelings, everything for Wooyoung was a blur.

Walking back home in the dark wasn’t something new, but the fact that his feet dragged him to the longer route to his house, made him more frustrated as he can’t turn back now that he’s closer to home than to the shorter route.

His eyes wandered around, a lot of 24/7 restos blinding him– well, not until the familiar burger place you had with Yeonjun pricked his curiosity and once again, let his feet take him there to peek.

His feet didn’t disappoint him. He, for a second, almost had a big smile on his face to see you, but not alone. That red hair fuck, as Wooyoung described Yeonjun, was with you.

“Laughing like the world was theirs,” Wooyoung scoffed as he kicked a small stone in sight, dragging his feet back home before he does something he’ll eventually regret. “I mean– what do you see in that man? His red hair is probably blinding you, y/n. Can’t you see I'm way more handsome than.. What was his name again? Yeonja? Yeontan? Right, Yeonjun.”

He enters his house more determined to push you away, not knowing that he was almost.. bursting. Almost hurting himself with himself. Bursting.. Fighting with his own.

So when tomorrow came, you had to thank Yeonjun for helping you clear out school tasks. What was wrong today was, Wooyoung shazam-ed out of your eyesight in a second among the grounds, as you just shrugged it away, thinking you could bother him after class anyways, in the cafe.

Plans.. ruined. Your professor had asked you for your help with some arrangements on an upcoming event, getting you sidetracked until night.

“Nine fucking pm, how great.” You sneakily glared at your prof, running to the cafe to see if Wooyoung was there since, just right on time, nine was their closing.

The gods just love you so much.

“Wooyoung!” You shout breathless, running to him.

Wooyoung just looks at you, still on your outfit just as he’d seen in the univ a while ago, raising his eyebrows.

“Sorry, prof Kim wanted me to help her–”

“We’re closed.” He cuts you off, taking the keys off the door and walking back home. Wooyoung wouldn’t ever think of you following him home, his eyes must be deceiving him when he sees you walk ahead of him, backward as you beamed at him with the brightest smile you could pull.

There wasn’t even a moon, nor a lamppost to flash on your features, but why did it feel like you’re the brightest form that is?

You just smiled at him while you walk backward, stopping too when he stopped in his tracks.

“Are you playing push and pull with me?” Wooyoung deadpans, and if it wasn’t for his serious tone and face, you would’ve cackled right in front of his face. So instead, you were stunned.

“W-what?”

“I asked if you’re playing push and pull with me,” He sighs out, growing tired of everything that has been occupying his mind. “You come to me, and when I.. try to make a move, the next thing I know you’re avoiding me.”

“What do you mean? I.. I'm here now!” You pout, growing defensive.

“And another thing I know after, you’re with that red-haired fuck, looking like lovers always about to kiss!”

“He’s just a friend!”

“Then! you’ll come to me after, begging me to come to talk to you for god knows what!”

“It’s because you’re avoiding me!”

“That’s because you avoided me first! For that red-haired fuck!”

“Okay, what the fuck?” You gasp, “First of all, he’s just a friend. Secondly, if you’re talking about the last time you see me out with Yeonjun alone, it’s because he cheered me up when I saw you flirting with Jongho’s partner!” You didn’t even know why you’re explaining, in the middle of the night, in the middle of an empty street.

“Then why the hell were you still with him last night?!” Wooyoung retorts back and you groan in frustration, walking back and forth while harshly brushing your hair back.

“He helped me finish my works so that I can fucking see you now, asshole! If I didn’t get sidetracked by prof Kim, I would’ve annoyed the fuck out of you again and probably might’ve finally confessed that I still, never stopped, fucking liking you! Or god knows if I love you, even!” Your pent up frustrations finally pour out, making you breathless.

You were positive it wasn’t the amount of coffee you had consumed for the past month just to bug him, nor the number of coffees he had given you in the morning amidst avoiding you that was making your heart beating more and more, faster than faster.

Wooyoung pulls you into a nearby alley, as if someone was still outside to hear your banter, staring right at your eyes as he pushes you to a wall to trap you in his arms.

Just the stare– it felt like you talked Wooyoung’s feelings. It felt like everything he overthought, was just as simple as he loves you.

So doing what he had always wanted to do, he cups your cheeks and looked at your eyes for consent, and it didn’t need words when you’re the one who leaned in, pulling him down further by the neck.

And just like that, everything fell into place, though weird that your first kiss was on an alley.

Breathless, Wooyoung broke the kiss with a smile on his face as he rested his forehead to yours, caressing your cheeks as he feels all burdening, heavy feelings he had suppressed in his chest melt away with your warmth that engulfed him.

“I love you too, y/n.” With the biggest smile on his face, and with a feeling that he had never felt before.

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the-insomniac-emporium · 3 years

Text

Serenade (Daniela Dimitrescu/Reader) Pt. 9

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T for language + mentions of sensitive topics Warnings: Referenced past abuse. Does not go into detail. Notes: Longest Serenade chapter yet at 4k+ words! Bit of angst, majority is fluffy fluffer fluff though. Next chapter is maximum h*rny, with two versions depending on reader, uh, equipment. EDIT: Forgot to put title, like dumbass. Past Chapters: Pt. 1: Nocturne, Pt. 2: Overture, Pt. 3: Accelerando, Pt. 4: Toccata, Pt. 5: Poco a Poco, Pt. 6: Elegy, Pt. 7: Harmony, Pt. 8: Obbligato

Chapter 9: Berceuse

(Berceuse: A lullaby. Generally slow and undulating.)

One moment you’re playing the piano, lovingly demonstrating a song you’d like Daniela to learn, the next you’re blue screening as she places a teasing kiss to your neck. It takes all of your willpower to keep playing, improvising a way to end the song right then and there. Then you’re turning to Daniela, eyes wide, blushing hard. She’s giggling. When she regains her composure, you give her a confused expression.

“I’m pretty sure this is the first time you’ve made real eye contact with me all morning. What gives?” She asked, frowning slightly. Awkwardly rubbing the back of your neck, you avoid her gaze, doing little else than proving her point. This frustrates her, and she lets out an aggravated sigh. I should probably tell her what happened, you think, dreading the idea. Still, the two of you had been making an effort to communicate better. What kind of partner would you be if you didn’t tell her about her mother’s intervention?

“Okay, okay… I wasn’t sure how to bring this up, but if I’m being this obvious about it anyway…” You started, trailing off anxiously. In response, Daniela places one of her hands over yours, giving you a reassuring squeeze. Though your face somehow gets even redder, the action gives you the courage required to continue. “I had another progress update meeting with your mother yesterday. I was worried, since this was the first one where you weren’t present, but I didn’t- I mean, er… Fuck it, she knows you’re interested in me. Doesn’t think we’re already together, thank God, but she told me, and I quote, that my response should be ‘swift and uninterested’. What are-” before you can finish you’re cut off by a loud groan, followed by your girlfriend cradling her head in her hands. Yeah, you think, this is about what I expected.

“Of course she did! I can’t have anything nice,” Daniela snapped, having gone from ten to sixty real quick. You’re just glad that she wasn’t taking it out on the piano. “How would she even know about us? I only stare at you when she’s not looking!” Oh? Since when did she stare at you? Certainly if Lady Dimitrescu had noticed, you would have as well?... Then again, the few times where all three of you were in the same room usually involved you working while they chatted or ate together. Still, the idea of Daniela making heart eyes at you from across the room was enough to make you blush again. “Look, she’s probably making some assumptions. There’s no way she knows as much as she thinks she does, at least not about us. So let’s just be careful- ugh, I sound like Bela- and otherwise keep doing what we do. Alright, songbird?”

“If you’re sure, then so am I. Let’s try to focus on our lesson for now, though,” you replied, doing your best to sound confident. Hoping to add in a little reassurance, you give Daniela a quick peck on the cheek. Unsurprisingly she ‘dodges’, instead kissing you on the lips, but you hardly mind at all. When she pulls back she’s got a huge grin on her face.

“Lesson now, fun later, got it. Speaking of later… You and me, inside the library, right after lunch. I’ll tell mother we’re going over theory and key recognition, but really-” she leans in close, mouth barely an inch from your ear “it’s a date. Don’t worry about getting caught, I’ve already made sure that neither Bela nor Cassandra will interrupt.” Your heart skipped a few beats at her suggestion, and you had to admit… you were beyond excited for this. When was the last time you had gone on an actual date? Years ago, just a month before you left your hometown and moved to the village. That had been a date you’d spend the rest of your life regretting… then again, it was what made you leave in the first place. And if you hadn’t left, you’d have never met Daniela.

Maybe it hadn’t been that bad after all.

————————————

Four minutes past one in the morning, you shuffled nervously towards the library, with note cards in hand. Even if you weren’t really going to help Daniela study, you wanted to be prepared in case you bumped into anyone along the way. After all, this was the night shift, when most of the servants were up and about, accomplishing any tasks deemed ‘too noisy’ to be done while the manor occupants slept. Thankfully, the fact that lunch had just finished meant a fair amount of workers would be busy cleaning up the dining hall. In the end, you only passed one other servant, but it was the only one you hadn’t felt confident about running into: Daphne.

Despite your long-standing friendship (having known each other in the village, and being brought to the castle within the same week), you had yet to tell her about your relationship with Daniela. Which by itself wouldn’t have been too bad, if not for the fact that she could tell you were hiding something from her. This had, understandably, put a damper on your friendship. From her perspective, there was nothing you shouldn’t be able to tell her. Even you weren’t sure if you should be more honest, all things considered. There was no way she’d ever tell someone else about your situation. But if one day you got in trouble for lying to Lady Dimitrescu… and somehow someone figured out that Daphne knew too, well, she’d be just as fucked as you, if not more so. After all, there was a chance that Daniela’s affection for you would lead to a lighter punishment. Not that being exiled into the forest was much better than being flat out killed.

So when you saw Daphne heading towards you, you tried to get by with a simple smile and a brief wave.

“Aren’t you even going to say hi?” Daphne asked, tone stiff but filled with disappointment. It catches you off guard, to the point where you drop your note cards. Immediately you’re squatting down, gathering them up, taking the excuse not to look at your friend. She doesn’t move to assist, instead pausing in the hallway to watch you. “We were supposed to stick together, you know? But it’s like becoming Lady Daniela’s little plaything made you think you’re better than the rest of us. Better than me.” That last part was barely more than a whisper, and you freeze in place, hand still hovering over one of the cards. “I shouldn’t have said anything, it doesn’t matter. Just try not to get yourself killed, alright? I don’t want to be the one to clean up your corpse.”

“Daphne, wait, please!” You said, finally moving to your feet, blocking your friend’s path. When she looks at you, you can just barely make out tears in the corners of her soft blue eyes. “I’m sorry, really. I… I can’t tell you what’s going on because I can’t risk getting you in trouble. You’re my best friend, Daph, and I don’t want anything happening to you just because I was doing something reckless.”

“Do you really think I don’t know what’s going on between the two of you?” Daphne questioned, with a bitter laugh. She’s shaking her head in disbelief, even as you stare at her, shell shocked. “Maybe the others haven’t caught on yet, but I’ve seen the way she looks at you, and I’m not oblivious to the way you talk about her. I figured you’d tell me eventually… It’s been weeks, though. More than that, I mean seriously, don’t you think I’d go down for you in a heartbeat? There was a time where I was sure the two of us would do anything for each other, ride or die when the dying part was a guaranteed end to all of this. Something tells me that’s not the case anymore.” Now she refuses to meet your gaze, instead staring down at what few note cards still lay on the floor.

“That’s still the case, I promise. It’s hard enough to look past what our employers do to strangers. If they hurt you? I’d never dream of forgetting, let alone forgiving them,” you explained. It’s enough to make her look back up, but she’s far from smiling.

“If that’s the case, maybe I’m looking at the wrong signals. But I’ve got to go, and I assume you do too. Take care,” she said, before slipping past you as quickly as she can. Then you’re left to gather the last of your note cards, mind whirling. Cruel as the thought may be, you hoped that this wouldn’t ruin the mood for your date. The best your mind could do to cope was focus on one thing at a time…

————————————

“Are you sure this is safe? I can’t even remember how many times I’ve been told to keep this door shut, under the threat of, you know, losing my life,” you called out, hanging out in the doorway. Beyond you by a few meters was Daniela, who twirled about with laughter, reaching out to catch a few falling leaves. This was the entrance to the garden, as far as you could tell. Not to be confused with the vineyard, which was larger, as well as on a completely different side of the estate. You had never been to either, seeing as only a select few servants were allowed to leave the manor. If Daniela hadn’t made it seem like you’d be staying in the library, well, you probably would have protested a little, regardless of how badly you wanted to go on a real date. Even when you had met up with her, she hadn’t told you any details, just laughing and asking you to follow her.

“Don’t be a baby! We’re still a few weeks away from autumn, and besides, you’re here with me! What could possibly go wrong?” Daniela asked, sending you a cheeky grin before dashing off into the garden proper. For a moment you’re left on the threshold, a picnic basket in your arms, wondering what the season had to do with your safety. Then you sigh, figuring that it couldn’t be that bad. Hadn’t your girlfriend mentioned this to Bela, anyway? Certainly the responsible older sister would have stepped in if something genuinely dangerous had been suggested? Well, you hoped as much, at least. With that in mind you close the door behind you, then dashed towards where Daniela had gone. Even as you round the corner, you don’t see her, and suddenly you’re nervous as hell. Before you can call out to her, the sound of rustling leaves catches your attention. Suddenly something jumps out at you! “Rah! Gotcha, babe!”

Ah, of course it was your girlfriend, clearly pulling a leaf from Cassandra’s book. You playfully smack her arm in response, trying to ignore the way your heart pounded. Humorous intentions aside, she had legitimately scared you, and you had nearly dropped your basket in response. Before you can say as much, Daniela’s hooking her arm in yours so she can pull you further into the gardens.

“You’re lucky you’re so fucking cute, firefly,” you muttered, a tad grumpy now. Most of your irritation was false, however, intended to tease your girlfriend. For a moment she doesn’t seem to realize that, and she stops in place. Once her eyes meet yours she understands what’s going on. Then she’s grinning, sticking her tongue out at you, and continuing down the path. Soon enough you’re approaching a paved brick circle. All around it, minus where it meets the walkway, are various flowers in bloom. Past the flowers are bushes, and past those are trees, whose branches provide a canopy for the circle. “Wow… and I thought you were pretty,” you teased, admiring the view.

As soon as the words leave your mouth, Daniela lets out an offended scoff, before taking the basket from you. Wordlessly she opens it up to grab the blankets within, spreading them without sparing you a glance. Now it’s your turn to wonder whether or not her anger is just a joke. Hoping so, you help her smooth out the blankets, making sure the two of you have ample space to spread out. At one point both of you reach for the basket at the same time, and she just grabs your hand instead, squeezing it. Next thing you know she’s pulling you down onto the blankets, rolling on top of you.

“Come here often?” She asked. Then, unsurprisingly, the two of you kiss. Both of your arms wrap around her waist, holding her as close as you can. One of her hands cups your cheek, the other resting on the ground to support herself, for ‘optimal makeout angles’. It’s a minute of bliss before she has to pull back for air. Instead of pulling away entirely, she shifts down a notch, resting her head against your chest. “Mmm… so comfortable. I could just… fall… asleep…” Daniela murmured, pretending to be sleepy. You can’t help but laugh, chest obviously shaking in as you do. “No! Pillows aren’t supposed to vibrate.”

“Are you sure about that?” You asked, only laughing harder.

“They don’t talk, either,” Daniela replied, huffing as she does. When you keep laughing, she rises to a sitting position, much to your disappointment. “So you have chosen death? So be it. I’ll just eat these candies myself, then.” With that said, she digs into the picnic basket, retrieving a bag of chocolates. Pouting, you reach out to try and yoink one away from her. Rather deftly, she pulls them away, sticking her tongue out at you before tossing a couple in her mouth. Determined, you surge forward, trying to catch her off guard, only to (somehow) end up face down in her lap. “Exactly like I planned, songbird. Now get comfy, alright?”

One of her hands trails fingers through your hair as you semi-awkwardly roll over. Now you’re facing up, watching your girlfriend practically inhale a few pieces of chocolate. But now she seems more inclined to share. She plucks one more from the bag, offering it to you by holding it in front of your mouth. Gladly you open up, and she drops the chocolate, before giving you a small ‘boop’ on the nose. Both of you laugh, then, a sound that sparks warmth in your chest. This was… nice. Relaxing. Not only were the two of you allowed to be as open with your affection as you wanted, it was the first time in ages that you had actually been outside, able to enjoy the sunlight.

Several minutes pass by like this, with Daniela feeding you (and herself) candies, both of you taking time to appreciate the scenery. Eventually the bag of chocolates becomes close to empty, and you see your girlfriend have an ‘oh crap’ moment.

“I was going to save some of these for you to smuggle into your quarters, damn it… guess you’ll just have to refuse to share, babe,” she said, shrugging a little. Then she sets the bag aside, now devoting both of her hands to playing with your hair. “Guess I’ll just have to find something else to keep my tongue occupied. Know any volunteers?”

“Hmm… I would, but it��s reeeaaaaaallllllly comfortable down here,” you teased in reply. Suddenly her hands are taken out of your hair, and you can just barely see that they’re positioned on her hips. She’s pouting at you, very similar to how you’ve seen her mother do, yellow eyes betraying her mischief. What exactly did she have planned?

“Really, songbird? I take you out, give you a wonderful place to rest, hand feed you chocolates… and you won’t even kiss me? When was the last time you even got to do something like this?” She asked, perking an eyebrow. The question is innocent enough. The answer, however, is not. Even with your head in her lap, you cannot fight off the brief sense of panic as your mind flashes into the past. It takes a deep breath, a few blinks, and a reassuring touch from Daniela for you to calm back down. “Songbird?... Hey, hey, it’s okay, I didn’t- I don’t know what happened. But we don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, we can just…” She trails off, sounding unsure of herself, and you feel a pang of guilt. Was it finally time to come clean?... Yeah, yeah it was.

“It’s fine, I promise. I just… I need to sit up for this,” you explained, begrudgingly rising out of her lap. But she doesn’t let you pull away entirely, a hand guiding you to sit right up against her. Then she gently wraps an arm around you. Leaning into her touch, you rest your head on her shoulder, closing your eyes for a few seconds. “It’s kind of a long story, firefly… But this has happened often enough that I need to tell you. At least part of it. So, well… When I was younger, I, uh, I read a lot of romance novels, watched a lot of movies. Not even the good ones, really. And I didn’t- I couldn’t think through them. Couldn’t analyze it the way I needed to. So I didn’t get a good grasp of what a healthy relationship looked like. My, uh, my folks weren’t keen on demonstrating one for me, either…

“Before I came to the village, I was, well, uh, the thing is you might not like this part? And you’re not gonna like the next part, either. Just… listen to the end, please,” you pleaded, waiting for an acknowledgment before continuing. “I was engaged, as in to be married, to a woman I had known for most of my life. We were neighbors, and had gone to school together, and everyone thought we were the cutest couple. Hell, for the longest time I thought that. We weren’t, though. She was-” Daniela tenses a bit, though remains silent- “manipulative, sometimes aggressive. Anytime there was an argument, she made herself into the victim, told me that I was crazy. She wanted to make all the decisions about our relationship for me, and I just… I didn’t question it. Not even after she proposed, when my only reason for saying yes was because we were in public, with friends, and she clearly assumed that I’d agree. I tried to tell her that I wasn’t ready, that maybe we were going too fast, but she tuned me out.

“I didn’t even think about running until our final date. That was the first, and the only, time that she ever… that she ever-” a few tears spill from the corners of your eyes- “got physical with me. She’d broken things before, for sure, but I never thought she’d hurt me.” Daniela rubs your back gently, her breathing a little shaky. Evidently she hated hearing about this as much as you hated talking about it. Somehow that made it a little easier to talk through. “The next day she had to work early, so I just packed up my things, went over to my parents’ house and told them what happened. For once they actually agreed, if you can believe it. Told me to get the hell out of town, said that they’d deal with my fiance, and our relatives, so that I didn’t have to worry about anything when I came back. It was less than a full day before I drove away from everything I had ever known, promising my folks that someday I’d be back. Didn’t settle down until half the continent was behind me, not ‘til I was here at the village.”

There were a couple moments of silence as Daniela waited to make sure you had finished talking. Then she’s kissing the top of your head, shaking a little more noticeably now, murmuring reassurances that you can’t quite understand. Again you lean into her touch, indescribably thankful for her comforting presence. Fuck, you think, I probably ruined the date… so much for spending quality time with my lil firefly. When the silence breaks, it does so softly, slowly, a careful opening rather than a forceful push.

“Why would you give me a second chance? After what I did to you?” Daniela asked, voice barely audible, her head still resting atop yours. It’s not the response you expected. Not in the slightest. You pull away slightly, to look her in her eyes, heart aching at the tear stains on her cheeks. Even though you want to give her an answer that will bring her peace, your mind draws little more than a blank. Why had you given her a chance? You had wanted to be with her, without doubt, even before Cassandra and Bela intervened. Even after every time that she reminded you of your past…

“I-I don’t know. Maybe I haven’t learned anything from what’s happened,” you started, uncertainty clear in your tone. “Or maybe it’s because you looked… regretful. You didn’t enjoy what you did, and I saw it in your eyes. And… and then you did something about it. If you hadn’t shown remorse, or if I genuinely believed that you might do something like that again, we wouldn’t be here right now. I mean, in that case your sisters probably would have killed me for turning you down, but that’s not entirely relevant right now, is it?” You’re rambling a little, stuttering over your own words. Still, somehow it makes Daniela laugh, and relief floods your chest. Soon enough you’re curled up against her once more.

“Hey,” she said, after a minute of comfortable silence. “Thank you for showing me what romance is supposed to be.” Then she’s leaning in for a kiss, and you’re responding eagerly, unable to stop yourself from smiling. This time it’s your hand that runs through her hair as you pull her in as close as you can. To your surprise, she does pull away a tad earlier than usual. But there’s a grin on her lips, and she looks satisfied as hell. “Definitely more of that, soon. There’s just one more thing we have to do, to make this date perfect, you know? I may or may not have, kind of, written you something? You’re not allowed to laugh, though!”

“When have I ever laughed at you?” You asked, teasing, literally laughing as you speak. In response, Daniela scowls, making a point to look away in feign protest. “Joking, joking… I’ve just, you know, never had someone write me something before. Kinda don’t know how to react, really. Other than blushing real hard-” which you were doing- “and trying to play off my excitement with humor. But I promise I won’t laugh, even if you start with something like ‘roses are red, violets are blue’ or end with something like ‘just us in bed, doing the do’. Please tell me that’s not what you wrote, though?”

“Now that you mention it, maybe that should be what I recite. Sounds exactly like the sort of thing that would get me laid,” Daniela joked, rolling her eyes at you. Then she’s tugging a loose piece of paper out of the picnic basket, unfolding it to reveal a well-worn surface and hand-written text. She hesitates for a moment, glancing up at you, before taking a deep breath. When she speaks it’s clear just how nervous she is. But with every line she gains a measure of confidence, by the end acting her usual confident self.

Step from the shadows, weary corners of my mind Encased in old thoughts, brought into new life Like ashes rising from tombs housing the divine

Spinning webs as I descend, from the cradle of heaven From the dead I have risen, blessed be the gift I’m given Only from your haunting call do I embrace living

Catching the corners of my lips turning up All my years I’ve felt, but never this much Quietly writhing, begging for your softest touch

The pursuit of unintentional romance left abandoned Whispering love-locked tales to be consumed Sweeter than every facade I have ever imagined

Come closer now, into my arms, heart embraced Trailing fingers over scars, sewing lines traced Tell me love, “we shall last until the end of days”

At first, all you can do in response is stare at her, expression filled with affection. Inside your chest your heart was racing, and you couldn’t remember the last time you felt this warm. Reaching out, you take one of Daniela’s hands in your own, grinning as soon as her gaze meets yours. Both of you are blushing rather hard. Then she sets the poem down, eyes never leaving yours for even a second. You try to stutter out a few words, but find your tongue tied, and so you settle for placing your forehead against hers. The two of you stay like that for a few loving moments. When you part, it is only to come back together, this time in a tight hug.

“One helluva date, yeah?” Daniela asked, looking incredibly proud of herself. You can’t help but nod enthusiastically in response, honestly happier than you had felt in years. “Well, I will have to let you get back to work soon, unfortunately… but we have a few minutes, at least. Besides, having to part will only make tonight all the more sweeter.” At that you pause, confused, tilting your head to the side. Realizing that she must have gotten ahead of herself, Daniela blushes before elaborating. “You, me, my room. Tonight, right after your shift ends.”

You could hardly wait.

#daniela dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu x reader #resident evil: village #re8 village #please tell me if the poem is any good #seriously pleaaaaaaseeeee #or just tell me what your favorite line from the whole chap is #that's always what I want to know #feedback wise

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snipsnsnailsnwerewolftales · 3 years

Text

Blue Moon - Part 1

A/N: See masterlist for prompts used. (And the list of amazing people who have helped me with this.)

I do not own Teen Wolf or it’s characters. Sadly.

Warnings: See Masterlist

Word count: 2,746

Xxx

“So what’s it like living with a Hale?” Stiles asked, turning away from your locker after you shut it. Both of you fell into step with Scott as you made your way to your next class.

You must have grimaced or made some face with a slight slant of your eyebrows only a Stilinski could read, because Stiles let out a snort. “That bad?”

You shrugged, sighing. “I mean, it’s not like I expected it to be a walk in the park, it is Derek Hale after all.” Scott chuckled with a gentle shake of his head, making you smile before you continued. “But I didn’t expect it to be this…. easy….. either.”

“Easy?” Scott questioned, making the same face you must have initially as Stiles let out another snort of laughter.

“Yeah, I mean, the first few days were awkward. If we weren’t training we weren’t doing anything. The man is silent, had no TV, or any of that-”

“Wait, ‘had’?” Stiles held out his hand, effectively cutting off your sentence and your steps, your shoes screeching on the floor at the sudden stop.

“Yes, had. He now has a TV, streaming services- yes, Stiles, services as in plural, if you keep your eyebrows that high they may stick that way, and it’s not the best look for you…”

“So at least there is something to fill the silence at least.” Scott resumed walking, you followed a few steps behind, Stiles lagging, jaw still dropped in shock.

“Well, yeah,” you agreed with Scott, and this time you felt your eyebrows making the face.

“But….?” Scott’s prodding was gentle, but his face held a smirk.

“But somewhere along the way we went from off handed comments during a news broadcast, or some show we were watching, to actually pausing it to have some discussion, or referencing some situation later and asking if the other had had something similar happen, or just opening up about random experiences and stuff. It’s…”

“Weird?” This time Stiles prodded, earning a glare and gentle whack on the arm from Scott.

“Well, maybe it’s because you’re…. new.” Scott opted for a more discrete word for ‘werewolf’ in the crowded hallways. “He may feel like opening up more because of the pack mentality and all.”

“No, it’s not because she’s…. new.” Stiles raised one eyebrow on the word as he addressed Scott, earning a sigh and eye roll from the young Beta. “The man is a brooding wall of leather and growls.” You chuckled at the description, making Stiles grin. “I think we finally found our miracle cure for our Sourwolf!”

“Woah, woah, woah, hold up.” You held up your hands as if to physically stop their words. “What?”

“Oh, come on, Y/N. We know you two like each other. It’s so obvious.” Stiles immediately closed his mouth, his lips a tight line, eyes wide and eyebrows in his hairline in his signature “I was not supposed to say that” face.

“What?” you deadpanned to your friend.

The bell rang, and Scott, wide eyed and smiling too broadly, gave Stiles a shove on the shoulder in the opposite direction of your next class as Stiles muttered, “Oh, look. The bell.” They both began to walk quickly the opposite way.

“Guys!” you yelled. “This is not over! But I am not responsible for you guys missing another class, what does that make, like fifteen already this semester?”

Your two friends stilled and turned on their heels, ushering past you quickly, avoiding your glare, Stiles looking at Scott and muttering, “See, Scott? I told you our class with Miss Blake was this way.”

“Ugh,” you mumbled under your breath. The sour expression stayed on your face even after you sat at your desk in the back of the class.

Chuckling, Stiles chanced a glance your way from beside you, hoping to change the subject from his ultimate fail in the hallway. “You still don’t like her?”

“I still don’t like her.” You overlapped his last few words, matching his gentle nod with one of your own as you stared straight ahead at the teacher’s still vacant desk.

“What is it about her you don’t like?”

“I just have a really bad feeling whenever I see her. Something just isn’t right.”

Scott chuckled, opening his book to the proper page. “You’re just mad that she gives you a little bit of a harder time.”

“You mean she gives me ‘more attention’?” you asked, your words rising to a ridiculous octave as they repeated Jennifer’s words she had used when she assigned you some extra credit to help raise your grade so you could stay on the lacrosse team. Your friends chuckled at your words. “I’m sorry, not everyone can be amazing at everything, being a wer-” you stopped yourself, clearing your throat before continuing- “new-” you looked at Scott pointedly, earning you a glare and Stiles’ laughter on your other side- “doesn’t allow for a whole lot of extra studying time.”

“Oh, come on, Y/N. I know you feel that way now, but it will pass,” Scott said with a smile as Miss Blake walked in, setting things on her desk, and he chuckled as you glared at her. “This is all ephemeral.”

You looked at Stiles, your face blank, voice a deadpan. “You ever buy him a word of the day subscription thing again, and I will rip your throat out.” You flickered your yellow eyes at him discreetly. “With my teeth.”

“With your teeth,” Stiles mumbled, overlapping your words, both of you nodding in agreement again. “I asked what it’s like living with a Hale, and now I got my answer.” He looked at you, shaking his head mockingly. “You’re becoming one of them. It’s contagious. We’ll call it ‘Sourwolf Syndrome’.”

Xxx

Due to your parents’ professions taking them all over the place constantly, like Allison, you were actually a year older than your friends, having to repeat a year a few grades back. But you wouldn’t change it for anything, because that’s how you met your best friends.

It helped that your parents were away on business most of the time, so no one questioned your staying at Derek’s loft for so long. You stopped by every few days to get the mail and check on the plants around the house, packing some new clothes if needed, Derek sitting outside in his car the first few times, but lately he had taken to coming in and helping you do the few things you had to do.

You told yourself it was just because of the increased threat that he wanted to be closer to his newest Beta. He didn’t have too many of those these days, you thought bitterly, smirking to yourself. You stared blankly as you rinsed out your coffee cup in the sink, and a wave of sadness washed over you as you thought of Erica, her absence still fresh and raw. The two of you had never really been close; just acquaintances at school, then pack members briefly, before she was gone.

Boyd had really withdrawn himself after that, and you didn’t blame him. You knew he probably felt how you did times ten. When Cora had been here briefly she mentioned losing a pack member was like losing a limb, and she hadn’t been wrong.

Then Derek had kicked both Cora and Isaac out of the loft, claiming it wasn’t safe with the Alpha Pack around. Isaac was staying with Scott, but you didn’t know where Cora had disappeared to. Peter was a wild card, so you didn’t even try to factor him in, and Scott outright refused to be a member of Derek’s pack. He was an Alpha with Beta eyes, and an enigma for another time.

The point was, Derek was running low in the Beta department lately.

The only reason Derek had you staying at the loft and followed you around the house when you had to go was because you were the newest, or so he said. Deep down you knew he just didn’t want to be responsible if something happened to you. He wanted to control the situation as much as possible which, you guessed, you were kind of glad, being new to this whole werewolf thing, and admittedly not wanting to stay home alone again, human or werewolf.

At least at the loft, even in the times before Derek brought home the TV and stuff, the silence had been comfortable. You’d never admit it to anyone, but just being in the presence of another living, breathing being, even one as brooding and somewhat annoying as Derek Hale, was nice.

And you sure as hell weren’t going to think about how he had helped you with your homework sometimes, especially with that English extra credit. He had a side he didn’t share often, and you were glad you got to see it. It was like a rare spotting of a mythological creature.

You smiled to yourself, watching the water in the cup filling clear now, the mug long clean, and you let your feelings wash away down the drain with the water as you turned it off.

Setting the mug in the sink, you took a deep breath, letting the feelings whirling around you fully roll off your back, rolling your shoulders back as they did.

Stepping into the doorway to the living room you saw him delicately watering some houseplant your mom babied. The first few times he had just poured water at its base, and you had to stop him, showing him how it had to be done, otherwise he’d over water it. And since then, though he had said initially that it was stupid under his breath, he took meticulous care to check if it even needed watering, and then watered it properly, like you showed him, even bringing books home to the loft about how to care for the various types of plants your mom had around the house. You found it endearing.

Smiling softly, you gently shook your head. One second you were bitter towards him, the next finding little things that made him amazing. “I’m going to go grab some clothes, my stuff got torn to hell last week when we dealt with what’s his face,” you said offhandedly, starting up the stairs. So many baddies came through this town, you got them all confused.

Derek chuckled. “Okay. You know you can always borrow some of my clothes if you need to.”

You stopped midstep on the staircase, each foot on a different step, and your grip on the bannister tightened, your knuckles turning white.

This.

This is why you had such conflicting emotions about this man. Wolf. Wolfman.

“Are you sure?” You kept your voice even, smiling softly.

He shrugged. “Yeah, I mean, makes more sense then driving all the way over here.” His voice tried to be neutral, but it was evident he was trying to cover up something he had let slip before really thinking about it.

“Thanks. I’ll remember that next time.” You nodded once to each other before you took two steps calmly and then practically ran up the rest of them to your room.

Holding a hand to your chest, taking deep breaths to try and stabilize your heartbeat, you slumped against the door after you closed it, sighing.

You tried not to over analyze what he said, but failed.

You knew he probably was making some underhanded comment about your abilities, “coming all the way over here”, really he wanted to say, “you suck at being a werewolf, you’re always getting hurt and your clothes destroyed in the process”.

“You too, wolfman. You too,” you mumbled under your breath as you angrily rifled through one of your drawers, grabbing a few things.

You chuckled a dark laugh. “But I’m an Alpha, Y/N. I’ll heal faster.” You mocked his deep tone, your search in your drawer turning into an aimless activity, the contents totally mixed up now.

He had never been around whenever you had gotten in a hit or takedown on the baddies you guys had encountered so far in your short time in this world. For some reasons you ended up on opposite sides of the battle fields, and he never said it directly, but you knew he probably thought you sucked. How else does one end up with torn shirts from claw marks and blood being covered by your jacket?

Everyone else had called you a badass, but Derek had yet to compliment or even comment on your fighting ability. But maybe, since he trained you, that spoke more to his ability and not yours, you thought with a smirk. Satisfied with the thought, you grabbed a few clothes out of the drawer before snapping it shut.

After a few steps toward the door, you slowed to a stop, absently staring at the clothes in your hand as your thoughts cleared a little from your earlier anger.

If it was a reflection on how he thought he was, that was kind of sad. Did he really think so lowly of himself and his abilities?

You had only been in this world a short time now, but even you had to admit he was a good Alpha. A good wolfm- werewolf. A good man. He was a great person to have at your back in a fight and in mundane things like math, which was also a fight, but that was a thought for another day. He was a good friend to have, period.

Shaking your head and chuckling gently at yourself, you wondered why your thoughts were everywhere. Glancing at your calendar on the wall, you saw the full moon was coming up soon and rolled your eyes. Of course.

This would pass. This was ephemeral. You groaned softly as you made your way back down the stairs. Stiles was going to pay.

Derek met your eyes when you made it to the last step, hopping the last few inches to the first floor. He set down the watering can softly.

“Do I really sound like that?” His lips twitched upward slightly.

Screwing up your face in confusion it took you a second to realize he had heard your mutterings as you disorganized the contents of your drawer upstairs. Realization crossed your face before your palm slapped to your forehead, the groan passing your lips before you could stop it.

Derek laughed, and you looked at him apologetically, to which he motioned with his hand as if waving it away and smiled at the floor where his gaze was focused. “Don’t worry about it. I just always thought my voice was deeper than that.”

He chuckled even more as you swatted his arm, laughing gently yourself. He grabbed your wrist playfully before you could withdraw your hand, and you found yourself pulled closer to him, almost toe to toe and having to crane your neck to look up and meet his eyes that looked down at you with some emotion you couldn’t decipher.

That comfortable silence hung around you two like a blanket… Until his phone rang.

As he fished it out of his pocket, you softly cleared your throat and took a small step back, feeling Derek’s gaze on you the whole time.

“Hello?” His voice was gruff and annoyed, and he was still staring at you. It almost seemed like he was upset at whoever was on the other end for interrupting his moment with you.

But that thought quickly evaporated.

“Jennifer!” He said it with a broad smile on his face, his voice a total about face from his greeting, and his eyes moving from you to the wall behind you.

It couldn’t be who you thought. There was no way. That would be too much of a coincidence.

“No, I’m not busy,” he said, turning to the door.

Grabbing his arm to stop him, he turned to look at you, eyebrows raised in question and, if you weren’t mistaken, slight annoyance.

“What?” he mouthed.

“Who is that?” you whispered.

“A friend,” he hissed.

“Who is it?” you hissed back at him.

“Your English teacher, Jennifer Blake.” He shrugged out of your grip and out your front door, motioning you to the car.

You seethed as you turned off the lights, grabbing your bag of clothes, and locking the door after you.

Reason number five hundred and sixty two to hate Miss Jennifer Blake.

Xxx

Tags: @mayahart02, @palaiasaurus64, @shydinosaurcandy, @lucyqueenofthestars, @c-breanne1999, @l4life, @ethereallysimple, @teenwolffan-with-nolife, @bellabadacadabra What’s This?

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333sth · 3 years

Text

dove. (frankie morales)

chapter ii. previous. series masterlist.

pairing: frankie morales x ofc (’dove’) no use of y/n

warnings: ptsd/military service, violence, injury detail, language, angsty.

summary: santi’s hunch is no longer a hunch, but only will knows how close they are to finding frankie’s girl.

rating: mature wc: 1.8k

When a strong hand had clamped around her shoulder, Dove’s instinct was to break it. It wasn’t menacing; they were just waiting at the bar to be served.

A burly, middle-aged man was towering beside her, clutching a beer bottle that looked miniature in his thick grasp. His arms, still holding the shadow of what was once impressive muscle, were littered with military tattoos. Dove could spot a stick-and-poke from a mile off.

“I recognise that,” He gestures to her neck, where a small Delta Force tattoo was usually disguised by her long hair. “You ex-forces? Delta?”

She wanted to kick herself. The sticky atmosphere had gotten the better of her and she’d thrown her hair into a ponytail without thinking.

“Yeah, but that isn’t exactly public knowledge ‘round here.” She murmurs.

Across the room, Roni throws her head back in exaggerated laughter. A group of men, who looked barely out of their teen years, had come over to make some desperate attempts at getting laid. Dove had excused herself to buy the next round after one of them had cracked a mortifying joke about liking older women.

“That’s understandable.” The man held out his hand, which she took hesitantly. “My name’s Mark, I just retired out here. Served for twenty three years.” He chuckled gruffly, his voice thick from cigarettes. “I got jack shit to show for it, mind you.”

“Tell me about it.” She laughs, but she doesn’t offer her name.

Mark notices as the conversation lulls. “I trained with a guy who made Delta. Santiago Garcia - we called him Pope, ‘cause he just had that way about him. You probably knew him.”

Dove swallows, chest lurching. “Sounds familiar… You know how it is though, the nicknames all blur into one eventually.”

That’s a lie, you never forget your teammates’ names. Mark knows it and so does Dove. Thankfully, he doesn’t push a conversation she clearly doesn’t want to have, and raises his bottle to her.

“Well, it was nice to meet you anyway. Enjoy yourself out here.”

“You too, Mark.” She tries to smile, but her lips press into a thin line that probably looks more like a grimace.

Mark had called Santiago the following day, the alcohol-blurred memory peaking his interest once he remembered his old friend’s plea a few months back. He’d asked around for any heads-up if any ex-Delta women around their age popped up. Mark had thought the man was delusional when he’d heard. If she was Delta Force, she wouldn’t be found unless she wanted to be.

Apparently, he was wrong. Maybe even the best of the best got rusty after a while.

The town Dove had been spotted in was questionable to Santiago. It was too cosmopolitan for a woman who was starting over. However, after a onceover on a map of Mexico, Santi spotted its smaller neighbour. He’d never heard of it, which meant it must be the place. Small population, right on the coast, with enough amenities and business to get by without any trouble.

“And, man, she had a wicked scar on her throat. Sort of shit you’d only see on a Delta.” Mark had added, with a chuckle. “I can’t imagine that ain’t your girl.”

‘Dove isn’t my girl,’ Santi wanted to bite back instinctually. He bit his tongue, and instead offered, “It sounds like her. I can’t thank you enough, brother.”

Santiago only told Will what he knew about Dove. He had the mind to retain that information no matter what this trip threw at them. Plus, he trusted him with his life, plus a couple other lives that came to mind. Call it insurance, if things went south.

Plus, Will didn’t have Tom’s mouth, or twisted morality. Tom was more than willing to accept that Dove would miss out on their prospective fortune, that the ‘hunch’ would have to wait until Lorea was dealt with. Santiago knew his brothers well enough to know Benny would throw a hissy fit if they knew where Dove was and she wasn’t included. She’d spent enough time stitching up their war-torn skin and shoving them out of bullets to deserve a cut.

So, Pope told a little white lie. They had a stop in Mexico to meet with a contact.

Frankie had murmured, “Better be worth it, stuck in this shitty car with you fuckers for ten hours.”

Santiago resisted the urge to agree. God, he hoped it would be worth it too. He hoped he wasn’t driving them into a dead end, a bluff on Mark’s part. Or even worse, invading Dove’s beautiful new life without them. That would destroy everything; Dove, the boys, Frankie. What if she had settled down? What if he pulled into that idyllic beach bar she wanted and she’s there, a baby with the same brilliant eyes balanced on her hip? She was never sure about kids. A vivid mental picture of the wrong diamond, glistening on her ring finger in the afternoon sun, and the wrong man pecking her lips, made Santi physically wince.

Fish would never forgive him. Will and Benny would never forgive him. He’d never forgive himself.

It was a long, apprehensive drive. Santi’s eyes were drying, squinting against the headlights that occasionally glared past them. His jaw had been clenched for the last few hours as his anxiety grew, nothing but open road to stare at while he contemplated over and over as to whether it was the right decision. It didn’t help that Frankie never really slept like the others did on the move. While the other boys passed out, Frankie’s soft eyes continued scanning the scene flying past the window. It was like he stayed awake to watch Pope’s back, as if they were still in combat, or as an unspoken act of kindness to keep him company.

Really, Frankie was a terrible sleeper. Santi remembered that from the early days, before he and Dove gave it up and became an item. He was the last to drift off and first to wake up, always restless. Once Dove started tip-toeing over to his cot in the night, he became the worst snorer in the division. Always splayed on his front, one arm tossed over Dove’s waist and the other under his pillow. She’d kick him in the night so he’d roll over and shut up, but it never lasted long.

One night, Benny had enough, and groaned to Dove, “Put us out of our fuckin’ misery and smother him with your pillow, for the love of God.”

Dove had snapped back, “Fuck off, Benny, just ‘cause you aren’t getting any of the action doesn’t mean you have to get all bitter.”

“I’ve told you guys - I’m more than willing to join in-”

“Ben.” Frankie grumbled into her shoulder. It was gruff with sleep but still menacing enough to make the hairs on Dove’s arms stand on end.

Before a pillow smacked into his head, Benny guffawed, “Oh, so he is alive after all.”

Wringing a soft rag for polishing glasses between her fingertips, Dove descends the wooden steps at the entrance of the bar. The last huddle of regulars holler behind her, wrapping up their weekend drinks as the evening creeps closer to the early hours; Dove always notices the time when moths start colliding with the lanterns.

Roni rises from a crouch on the ground, dropping a paintbrush into a can with a clatter. “See, your own little touch!”

The wooden panels that constructed the side of the bar, usually concealed by a stack of cardboard beer boxes, is decorated with little doves. Despite studying criminology, mainly for the satisfaction of her parents, Roni loved painting and insisted on brightening the exterior of their beach shack.

Dove cracks a half-smile. “It’s lovely, Ron. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” She beams, throwing the half-empty cans into the nearby bins. She pauses, glancing hesitantly at the older woman over her shoulder, “Dove’s not your real name, right?”

“No, no. Nickname from when I was nursing overseas.” Dove chuckles, before adding, “Feels more like my real name than my Christian one nowadays.”

Roni passes Dove on the steps as she returns to the bar, “It suits you. You’re always graceful, but… you’re fucking fast.”

Dove laughs with her, ignoring the familiar clench in her chest. It’s exactly what Frankie used to say. The difference is Roni notices when she almost drops a glass, or her tray of drinks starts to wobble, and Dove is there to catch it with such fluidity Roni never saw her coming. Even the way Dove’s knife slices through fruit like each piece is a slab of melted butter. Frankie witnessed the extreme of that, the stealth and grace that usually ensured the enemy was dead before the others had even thought to raise their guns. Still, he admired her the same way Roni was right now. It was like awe.

It’s probably because he loved her effortlessly, every single aspect of her being without a glimmer of doubt or judgement. And now he wasn’t here.

The group of regulars stumbling down the steps break Dove from her thoughts, chortling and wishing her goodnight. One of the older men turns and jerks his thumb towards the road, “You might wanna tell them you’re closing, bonita.”

Before the road becomes the sand, there is a small, dusty wasteland that doubles as a makeshift car park. A vehicle is parked, glaring headlights facing towards the ocean and forming peculiar, alien-like beams in the dark. She’s definitely getting rusty; she’d barely registered the idling truck.

“I’ll sort ‘em out, Miguel, don’t you worry.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt it,” He jokes, waving to her. “Buenos noches, Dove.”

Military habits are practically impossible to shake, and immediately, Dove’s mind launches into overdrive. She raises her hand above her eyes, squinting against the blinding white LEDs in an attempt to make out a registration plate or even a recognisable model. Her mind is fine-tuned to memorise; most of the locals’ cars are already catalogued in her memory, but this isn’t one of them.

Maybe they’re tourists, ready to push their luck with the opening times. That’s the reasonable side of Dove’s mind. The irrational, dark edges whisper, ‘What if someone found you?’ By someone, it means someone bad. Someone she wronged during her service, an enemy or straggler that got away. Even a civilian that might have been caught in the crossfire. She thought about those ghosts often. Hell, some of them she could still name. When she can’t sleep, sometimes she lists them, pictures their faces if she can recall them, just in case they ever came back.

She inhales a sharp gust of ocean air through her nostrils, welcoming the clarity that spreads through her mind. Parting her lips (the lips Frankie always teased were in a permanent pout), she released the breath slowly, trying to relax the stressed scrunch in her features.

“Your face is gonna get stuck like that someday.”

The voice is familiar. A deep, breathy chuckle, barrel-toned and gravelly. It sounds like home.

taglist: @mishasminion360

#frankie morales #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie x reader #triple frontier imagine #triple frontier #triple frontier x reader #triple frontier fic #frankie morales x ofc #dove #Santiago Garcia #Benny Miller #Will Miller #pedro pascal #frankie morales imagine #frankie morales fic #francisco morales #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal characters

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earnestly-endlessly · 3 years

Note

hello! do you have any fics where erik and charles are childhood best friends now in a relationship?

Hi anon, thanks for the ask. There are a fair few fics where Charles and Erik are childhood best friends and are now in a relationship but there are actually more where they are childhood best friends and end up in a relationship in the fic. So, I decided to include those in this list since it kind of matches what you're looking for.

Childhood best friends now in a relationship

Work/Life Balance - pocky_slash

Summary: As teens, Charles was the star of a super popular tween/teen television show and Erik was his best friend. As adults, they're a frighteningly domestic married couple and Alex, Darwin, and Sean are Erik's nosy co-workers.

Some Forgotten Corner of the Universe - Black_Betty

Summary: Erik remembers the boy he met on Osiris.

Charles is no longer that boy, but that doesn't mean Erik loves him any less…

A Winter in New York - nextraordinaire

Summary: Charles and Erik have been childhood friends for as long as they can remember – Erik, living with his mother in Queens, and Charles in the big mansion in Westchester. For all, expect themselves, it was just natural progression that they'd end up together.

A series of ficlets from the same universe – can be read as separate and are out of chronological order.

A Very Cherik Sleepover – Penguina

Summary: When Erik invites Charles for one of their traditional sleepovers he doesn't expect it'll turn out that way. Instead of taking the upper bunk bed as usual, Charles decides to curl up in Erik's bed with Erik to keep them warm... However, it gets a little too hot.

Something in the way you move – BrightDream

Summary: Erik and Charles have been best friends for years now, but four months ago their relationship secretly became something more.

This means that when Erik's mom leaves them alone in the house, it's their chance to figure it out just what they can do to make each other feel good, even though there are some deep insecurities that might get in the way...-

Quiet Like a Fire - kianspo

Summary: Charles has been in love with his best friend for years without realizing it. When he finally figures it out, Erik is married to a wonderful woman and has an adorable daughter, who thinks the world of Charles. Erik has the perfect life that Charles helped him build, so there is only one thing for it - get over his feelings. So what if his methods are unhealthy or if Erik has an opinion on the matter? Charles is determined to do the right thing.

Love Story - Sophia_Bee

Summary: Charles and Erik are best friends, until they're not. A love story in three parts.

Curve Fitting - kianspo

Summary: The weird thing is, Charles always introduces Raven as his sister, but he never calls Erik his brother. Erik would be bothered, except he prefers not to think of Charles as his brother, either. He can’t figure it out for four years, and then suddenly he can.

Or. A non-powered AU in which Sharon Xavier never remarries, and Charles 'adopts' not only Raven, but Erik too.

Bad things happen when you mix siblings with spite - inazumaghostking

Summary: Erik is determined to fuck Charles.

Raven is determined to stop them.

a.k.a. a sibling fight ft. two gay boys, a concerned sister, and a closet

Did You See This, Erik! - Iggysassou

Summary: "What if Charles and Erik grew up together, Charles absolutely convinced that he was the one protecting Erik and being super proud of himself for it when in reality, Erik has always secretly protected him with his powers because Charles is simply the most adorable person on Earth."

Hot Cocoa Magic – nextraordinaire

Summary: Charles takes Erik out to the skating rink. Erik has never stood on a pair of skates in his life, but it'll be easy-peasy, right?

For Us Two – aliceecrivain

Summary: Erik is five years old the first time he meets Charles in the forest outside his new home and quickly discovers the other boy is more than he appears. Despite being accidental, the event defines the course of his life in ways he never could have expected.

The two boys grow up together, mutually braving the ups and downs of adolescence, and, over time, become inextricably attached. Initially intimidated by the limits the attachment puts on him, Erik yearns to break free in spite of his own feelings, but learns with time that the connection between them is not something he can live without.

Practical Cartography - pearl_o, pocky_slash

Summary: When Charles discovers how frustrated and self-conscious his best friend Erik is about his ignorance about sex, he's eager to volunteer to help teach him and practice. Charles might not have any more direct experience than Erik, but he does have a telepath's mind full of accidentally picked-up fantasies and memories, as well as knowledge of a few dirty books - and more importantly, he's been madly in love with Erik for years. This seems like a brilliant, once-in-a-lifetime opportunity that he can't pass up.

Now he just needs to manage to keep his feelings in check, and not ruin their friendship forever.

A Kiss is Just a Kiss – Penguina

Summary: Charles Xavier has always been in Erik's life. However something always gets in the way of Erik actually realizing he has feelings for this adorable dork who was so obviously crushing on him since high school. Until one day, years after their first kiss, Erik finally understands what that feeling he always had for Charles really was! But is he too late? Did he miss his chance to tell Charles 'I love you'? It's been years and did Erik really think Charles would wait for him his entire life?

You and Me Against the World – madmalina

Summary: One important thing to remember: this is a love story.

Twenty years and two lifetimes later. Just two boys learning to mutant, grow up, and love each other.

Wicked Game - obstinatrix, seutedeern

Summary: Erik's reputation as a defender of the weak in elementary school isn't undeserved. He wouldn't have expected a Xavier to fall into that category, but it seems that other people don't see Charles the way Erik does, as a warm, lovely person who should be protected. As the years draw on, Charles and Erik become best friends, inseparable. Everything is perfect, platonically ideal, until it isn't.

Believe (One More Time) – luninosity

Summary: For the prompt, Charles and Erik dated during college and had a bitter break-up right before graduation. It's five years later and they both meet again at their class's reunion for a weekend. Someone was even stupid enough to have them room with each other for the weekend…

If We Met Differently – swoopswoop

Summary: Erik wasn't the only mutant 'taken in' by Shaw, Erik learns this the hard way when a new mutant is dropped into his cell. They manage to escape together, but things aren't all roses after that. Erik has a score to settle and needs to make sure Charles is safe.

With pulses that beat double – aesc, pearl_o

Summary: It has been thirteen years since Charles watched his beloved childhood companion walk out of his life. Now, in fin-de-siècle Paris, a chance overheard remark may lead them to each other's sides once more.

Change is Constant – Black_Betty

Summary: Erik and Charles knew each other in high school, might have even called themselves friends. At their ten year high school reunion, Erik realizes how much has changed.

There is No Future Without You – EnchantedPhoenix

Summary: Charles and Erik were friends when they were children - Until certain circumstances tore them apart. Many years later, when Erik moves to England so that he can study at Oxford University, he certainly doesn't expect to run into his childhood friend again. In fact, he doesn't expect any of the events that follow.

The Cost of a Good Man – archipelago (arcanewriter)

Summary: Erik and his mother flee Europe before the advent of the war to live on the Xavier estate. Charles never questions their good fortune, or his own.

#cherik #cherik fic recs #fic recs #asks #earnestly answers #childhood best friends to lovers

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ectoentity · 3 years

Text

Late Night Answers

Ectoberhaunt Day 5: Witching hour vs Twilight

Fandom: Danny Phantom

Rating: G

Characters: Danny Fenton, Kitty, Johnny 13

Tags: Witching hour, ghost culture?

Danny keeps waking up in the middle of the night. The same exact time every night. He decides to take a flight around town and runs into a couple ghosts who're willing to give him some answers.

Read on AO3 here.

Danny’s eyes opened. It was night. Above him, the stars on his ceiling gave off a dim glow. He was still wrapped in his blanket. There was no cold ache in his throat that would indicate his ghost sense had woken him up.

He glanced at his alarm clock. The red numbers read 3:00. Danny grumbled and turned on his side, away from the clock, and tried to go back to sleep. This was the third night this had happened. For the last two nights he’d woken up at exactly three in the morning for no reason. He’d tossed and turned in bed until around four.

This night apparently wasn’t much different. He laid in bed for about ten minutes, but his brain just kept going back to worries about the next day. It wasn’t restful at all. Danny sat up and wiped the sleep from his eyes. If he was going to be awake for a while, he should at least do something useful.

In a flash of light Danny transformed. He flew through the wall into the chilly night air. He could feel the cold against his face, but it didn’t bother him like it would a normal human. There was no moon tonight - it had set before nightfall - but he could see perfectly well. Danny decided to head towards the city park. The night was fairly quiet. There were some cars on the roads, but not very many. Just a few night shift workers and late night travelers.

His ghost sense went off when he was halfway to the park. It felt familiar: kind of spiky but not painful or aggressive. Danny was slowly getting better at identifying ghosts based on how his ghost sense felt, but it was more of an art than a science. He had no idea who this could be. Who would be out at the park in the middle of the night and not causing havoc?

The sound reached him before he saw who it was. A motorcycle revved its engines, and someone shrieked in joy. It had to be Johnny, Shadow, and Kitty. Danny landed near the park fountain. They didn’t seem to be causing much trouble aside from being loud. He sat on the edge of the fountain and waited for them to come around again. It wasn’t long before Johnny’s ghostly bike flew in from the opposite area from where they’d left. As expected, Kitty was hugging Johnny as he did some spins that would have been dangerous if they’d still been alive. They rose up on the front wheel of the bike and spun three times before landing again. Then Johnny pulled into an empty parking spot in front of the fountain.

“Hey, kid,” Johnny called. “Surprised it took you so long to come out.”

Danny shrugged. “Didn’t seem like you were really causing trouble tonight.”

Behind Johnny, Kitty giggled. “You mean the last three nights?” she asked.

That got his attention. Danny floated up into a standing position, though his feet didn’t touch the ground. “What do you mean?” he asked. “What’ve you been doing?”

“Chill out, kid,” Johnny said. He got off his bike and offered his hand to Kitty. She grabbed it and jumped down from the bike. “We’ve just been riding around. Witching hour season, you know how it is."

Danny didn’t know exactly what Johnny meant, but he had a feeling it had to do with why he kept waking up. “I keep waking up at three,” he admitted, settling down to stand on the ground. “What’s that about?”

“How long’ve you been a ghost?” Kitty asked. “Or, whatever you are.”

Danny’s eyes flashed. “A little over a year.”

Kitty put a finger up to her chin. “And you didn’t notice last year? That’s a little weird, with how strong you are.”

“You guys kept me up almost every night for three months straight last year,” Danny grumbled. He was still a little bitter about that. It had ruined his grades. Now that he’d cemented his ownership of Amity Park, ghosts didn’t try to challenge him as much, but it had been a really awful for a while.

“Oh, right.” Kitty at least had the manners to look embarrassed. “Well, this time of night is when we’re more… present, I guess?” She looked at Johnny for confirmation, but he just shrugged. Kitty frowned and looked back at Danny. “The closer we get to Halloween, the more it affects us. I can be out of the Zone a little bit longer, Johnny and Shadow can ride faster, that sort of thing.”

On the one hand, Danny was glad to get some kind of answer for why he kept waking up. On the other… “So I’m gonna wake up in the middle of the night for no reason for a month?”

“Two months,” Johnny corrected. “Sorry, Phantom. It doesn’t just stop on November first.”

Danny sagged. He wiped a hand across his face in frustration. “Great. Thanks for telling me. I guess I could… get homework done,” he said weakly. It sounded like the worst possible thing to do in the middle of the night.

Johnny and Kitty stared at him and then burst out laughing. Danny glared until they quieted down enough to talk.

“Oh, Ancients, you’re such a goody-two-shoes,” Johnny snorted. “That’s awful. No, kid, this is ghost time. You can’t do lame shit like homework.”

“What do you want to do?” Kitty asked. “Really? Do you wanna do homework, or… I dunno, fight people? What do you even do when you’re having fun as a ghost?”

Danny frowned. “I don’t have fun as a ghost.” He gestured to his glowing, jumpsuit-clad form. “I’m only like this when I have to fight ghosts.”

The ghosts shared a glance before looking back at Danny. “That’s really sad, kid,” Kitty said. She brushed a lock of hair back behind her ear. “Do you even know what you’re like as a ghost?”

He blinked at her. “I mean… I’m me? I’m more, uh. Protective of stuff.” He blushed green and looked away. He didn’t really like thinking about all the weird ghost instincts that had popped up over the last year. It made him worry about being less human.

Johnny snorted. “No shit. You spent the last year beating the crap out of anyone who laid a foot in your territory.” Kitty elbowed him in the gut.

“Come on, Johnny, he was just a mote. We weren’t too chill for a few years, either.”

“Ow! Babe, we weren’t… you know!” Johnny waved at Danny, indicating his whole self. Danny raised an eyebrow.

“You did kind of try to take over my sister’s body and then possessed one of my classmates,” he reminded her.

Kitty rolled her eyes. “Yeah, but that was before I knew you were just a kid. Like, really a kid. Most ghosts don’t get near as strong as you in their first year, you know. We both thought you were super old but just acted like you were a kid.”

“Even though my human form looks just like me?” Danny asked, crossing his arms.

“Yeah?” Kitty said with a shrug. “Look, the only other one like you we’d heard about was the old guy. He’s been the same age for like, fifteen years or whatever. Why would we think you were any different?”

A lot of questions crossed Danny’s mind. Did that mean Vlad stopped aging? He knew the fruitloop looked weirdly young, even though he had grey hair, but he figured that was botox or something. Did that mean Danny was going to stop aging in a couple years? He was pretty sure he had grown some in the last year, but what if-

No, he had immediate things to deal with. These two probably didn’t know any of the answers to those questions.

“Okay, so, let me get this straight,” Danny said, “Witching hour is for doing ghost stuff. And I’m supposed to figure out what I like to do as a ghost, so I can do it for a couple months.”

“I guess?” Johnny said with a frown. “Not like we had to figure that out.”

Danny picked up his feet so he was hovering a couple feet above the ground in a seated position, one leg dangling and the other hiked up so his knee was in front of his torso. “I guess I like flying? It’s pretty nice. I can go over a hundred miles an hour.”

“Yeah, we can tell,” Kitty said, a hint of a laugh in her voice. She picked up her legs too so she hovered in a cross-legged position in front of him. “That’s not really a you thing, though, is it? Most ghosts like flying.”

“I still prefer the bike,” Johnny said.

“Objection noted, sweet heart,” Kitty teased. “You like protecting the town, right? Maybe you should fly around to make sure it’s okay?”

It wasn’t a bad idea, but something about it felt sour. “I do that all evening anyway,” Danny grumbled. “It’s not like I hate it, I just… It’s not fun.”

Kitty hummed. Danny was very glad she didn’t poke at that. Fighting ghosts could be fun sometimes, but mostly it was something he felt driven to do. He didn’t enjoy it like he would playing a game, or watching a meteor shower, or…

His eyes lit up. “There’s two meteor showers this month,” he said, remembering it suddenly. “The Draconids are in just a couple of days, and then the Orionids near the end of the month.”

“That’s like shooting stars, right?” Kitty asked.

“Exactly. It's rocks from space burning up in the atmosphere,” Danny said, a smile spreading across his face. Why hadn’t he thought about this before? He could get up above the clouds, away from the light pollution. “I bet I could get the best view in town now.”

“Of course he’s a nerd,” Johnny grumbled. Kitty shushed him.

“That sounds like a great thing to enjoy,” Kitty said to Danny. “Wanna ride with us one day and get out of town? Away from the lights?”

Danny hesitated. “You’d be okay with that?” He glanced from her to Johnny. Kitty seemed friendly enough when they weren’t fighting, but Johnny was the one who drove the bike.

Johnny frowned for a moment. He looked back at his bike. Danny could practically see the gears turning in his head. Finally Johnny turned back to Danny and said, “If it gets us out of this dump, yeah, we’ll take you stargazing.”

Before he knew what he was doing, Danny was hugging Johnny. “Holy shit thank you I haven’t gone in years I won’t let you regret it.”

After a few moments had passed, Johnny gently put his hand on Danny’s shoulder. “H-hey, it’s no big deal, kid.”

Far in the distance, a church bell rang.

“Well, that’s our cue,” Kitty said. “Same time tomorrow?”

Danny straightened up, a little embarrassed that he’d just hugged Johnny of all people. “Yeah. See you then.”

When he made it back to his bed, he fell asleep instantly.

#ectoberhaunt trick #ectoberhaunt 2021 #danny phantom fanfic #my writing #just some chatting #kitty (danny phantom)#johnny 13

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queenshelby · 3 years

Text

Foreigner – Peaky Blinder Fanfic

PART ONE – WAY BACK HOME

Featuring: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warning: Angst (don’t worry, Smut is coming in the next part for you dirty minded people)

Words: 3462

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Your Story

It has been 8 years since you left Birmingham and embarked on a journey to the US with your parents. Your brother was killed by Arthur Shelby, after having stolen from the Lee Family and getting involved in your father’s business.

It wasn’t your brother’s fault that he resorted to stealing. In fact, it was all he had ever known since he has been a young boy. He was stealing to feed you and your mother while your father was preoccupied interfering with Thomas Shelby’s gambling business.

Over 8 years ago, your father was employed by the Shelby Family to fix races but, at the same time, he was trying to skim money from their forged winnings and it wasn’t long after your brother’s and father’s actions had come to the attention of Thomas Shelby that a war emerged between your family and the Shelby gang.

The war was bitter and a threat made by Thomas Shelby against your father’s life caused your family to flee to a safe haven offered by your aunt Esme Bortelli in Atlanta. Just like you and your parents, your aunt was gypsy. But, she made a deal with the devil after her first husband had passed away from Spanish flu.

Her second husband was no other than Luigi Bortelli. Luigi had a direct affiliation with the North Italian Mafia in Atlanta. He enjoyed the dangers in life. Handling and dealing with cocaine, heroin and alcohol, which, at the time, was prohibited in the US.

Luigi was shot a few years ago by police along with his brother Pepe while collecting a shipment of cocaine from the port of Atlanta. Following Luigi’s death, your aunt Esme took over the family business and dealings with the North Italian Mafia. Unfortunately for her, she wasn’t taken serious by some of her suppliers. It wasn’t common for a woman to be in this kind of business. Your father became her assistant, taking shipments and dealing with suppliers on her behalf. Nonetheless, it was her all along who pulled the strings.

The business ran smoothly for several years until, one day, a dispute occurred between the Sabini family and yours. As a result, your mother was shot in your family home by Sabini’s men. Giovanni Sabini resided in the UK and was Darby Sabini’s brother. He had family in the US which operated a rival gang importing the same products as your aunt Esme. After your aunt Esme ignored several of Giovanni’s demands to cease dealings in the area and accept shipments from the UK arranged by the Changratta family, he sent his men to send a message and kill Esme’s sister (your mother).

Esme and your father soon declared war on Giovanni Sabini but, your family’s local men turned against Esme as word came to them that Sabini had turned on the Changratta Family and, as a result, Luca Changratta was killed in Birmingham and the Peaky Blinders took over the supply of alcohol and cocaine to Atlanta exclusively to Giovanni Sabini’s men. This caused the Sabini family to gain greater power within the Atlanta area, much to the disadvantage of your aunt and the North Italian Mafia.

Your aunt Esme saw only one option to rectify this issue and replenish her standing within the North Italian Mafia. She sent your father back to Birmingham to make Thomas Shelby an offer he could not refuse, namely an alliance between the Peaky Blinders and the North Italian Mafia, guaranteeing exclusive supply to the entire West Coast.

Since you had become interested in the family business over the past few years and your aunt had taught you a lot about her supply and trading operations, you demanded that you join your father during his trip to Birmingham. Whilst your father had grown fearless and calculating, you were smart and practical which is just what your aunt Esme needed in order to represent her business.

Unfortunately, whilst your aunt was suspicious of your father’s recent behaviour, what she didn’t know was that he had a very different plan of his own. He wanted revenge on both, Arthur Shelby and Giovanni Sabini, even if it would cost him his own life. For this reason, your father was against you joining him on this journey. You were his only living child.

But, aunt Esme demanded that you join him and so you went.

‘Watch him and his men and report back to me’ were your aunt’s words as you left the port of Atlanta.

Back in Birmingham

After a three day boat journey, you and your father arrived in Birmingham along with several of his men.

Three of your men were questioned by border security upon their arrival. Fortunately for them, aunt Esme’s men in Birmingham had already made pay offs and you were escorted to your hotel.

Birmingham has changed a lot since you have been there last. Most factories, bars and residences were owned by Shelby Company Limited and even the hotel you were staying at was owned by Thomas Shelby.

You never met anyone from the Shelby family. Your father and older brother both worked for the Shelbys for many years until conflict emerged between them. Nonetheless, during this time, your father shielded you and your mother from these dealings. He always said there is no place for women in this business. It therefore comes as a surprise that your father works for aunt Esme now.

You know that your aunt does not trust your father. She always tells you that your father is a danger to himself and you have begun to believe it. His anger and hate has taken over in the last few months and that is why aunt Esme has sent you.

As you finally arrived at the hotel, it became clear to you that Shelby family already had tabs on you. A note from Thomas Shelby was left at reception for your father. It was an invitation to a charity event.

‘Smart’ is what you thought when you read it. Thomas Shelby obviously doesn’t know whether or not he can trust your father. What better place to discuss their business could there be than a public event where your father and his men cannot strike against him. After all, most men in Birmingham work for the Shelby family in one way or another.

Your father, however, was not impressed with the invitation and liaised with two of his men. A message was to be delivered to Thomas Shelby at the Garrison. You only ever heard of the Garrison in conjunction with your brother’s death. This is where he was killed just over 8 years ago by members of the Lee family. But, despite this, you recalled your promise to aunt Esme, to keep an eye on your father and his men.

Shortly after the two men had left to the Garrison, you sneaked out of the hotel.

The Garrison

‘Excuse me sir, how do I get to the Garrison?’ you asked the delivery driver who was delivering Gin to the hotel you were staying at.

‘The Garrison? This is really no good place for you Love’ the delivery driver said.

‘I have business to attend to at the Garrison. I am new in town and am looking to promote a new type of champaign to all of the establishments in the area’ you explained.

‘I don’t think you are going to have much luck at the Garrison Love, but I can take you there after I finish unpacking these. It’s my next delivery stop’ the man said.

‘Thank you sir, I much appreciate it’ you said as you climbed into the man’s truck.

The drive was less than 10 minutes and after you gave the man a couple of pounds for his troubles, you climbed out of the truck and went inside the Garrison while keeping a careful lookout.

The Garrison was full of drunk men, some steel factory workers and some men nicely dressed in suits.

Unfortunately for you, you could not see the men your father had sent. You carefully removed your hat and ordered a glass of whiskey.

‘Top shelf please sir’ you said as you sat down at the quite end of the bar. To your surprise, the bar tender didn’t question you or your choice of drink. It wasn’t common for women to drink in establishments like this. In fact, it was prohibited.

You decided to stay for maybe ten or fifteen minutes to see whether your father’s men would turn up. You took a careful look around every two minutes or so but the men couldn’t be found.

There was, however, one man who caught your eye. He was incredibly well dressed for a place like this and accompanied by a beautiful blonde woman. It was obvious to you that the woman wasn’t his wife. In fact, she looked just as much out of place as you did.

His eyes were blue like the sky on a sunny day in Atlanta and his hands were perfect, clean and masculine as if they had been crafted by an artist.

You couldn’t stop starring at him. His charisma was almost overwhelming.

It wasn’t long until he noticed you too. His eyes gazed over to you several times, much to the dislike of his female companion.

His looks were intimidating and you didn’t know whether he noticed you starring at him or whether he had taken an interest in you. Probably the earlier, considering that he was obviously much older than you.

After 15 minutes had passed and you felt surprisingly awkward in this man’s presence, you quickly finished your drink and decided to call it a night. You did not think that your father’s men were going to appear any time soon and it was getting quite late.

As you left, you noticed two drunk men following you.

“Ey Love, how much for the both of us?” one of the men said as he followed you.

‘In your dreams’ you said with laughter as you turned around for a brief second as, all of a sudden, the man grabbed your wrist.

‘Feisty… I like feisty girls’ the man said as he pulled you closer towards him while his acquaintance approached you and ran his hand over your blouse.

‘Fuck off and leave me alone’ you responded angrily and with some ignorance towards their actions.

‘Oh, you like it rough love?’ one of the men shouted in return while the other pushed you against the wall.

You tried to reach for your gun which was pinned to your left upper leg as, suddenly, you heard a gunshot from near the entrance to the Garrison.

It was a dark and foggy night and you couldn’t see much more than a shadow of a man approaching you and the attackers.

‘The lady said that she wants to be left alone’ another man said from the distance while pointing a gun at the attackers.

‘Piss off man’ one of the attackers yelled in a rather drunken tone, ignoring the first gunshot that had already been fired by the mysterious man.

Suddenly, you heard a second gun shot and a loud scream from one of the drunk men right beside you. He had been shot into his left knee and was in agony.

‘The next time I will aim higher’ the gunman said as he approached you closely, just before the uninjured drunk man scrambled and ran off, knocking you down onto the gravel in the process, while the other man began pleading for his life.

‘I am… I am very sorry please. I won’t…It will not happen again’ the man said. The tone of his voice was frightened and you could tell that the men knew each other.

‘I will not see you and your friend at the Garrison again, you understand?’ the gunman said angrily before allowing the injured attacker to leave.

You were lost for words. This mysterious man may have just saved your life.

Getting to know the Stranger

‘Are you alright, Miss?’ the man asked as he put away his gun and reached for your hand to help you up.

‘Thank you, I am fine’ you said quietly.

As you looked up towards the mysterious man you noticed that he was the man you had seen before, at the bar, with the beautiful blonde lady by his side.

With thoughts racing through your head, you almost didn’t notice that your legs were shaking and you had an awful pain in your left knee.

‘You are bleeding’ the man said, but you barely noticed the red staining on your white skirt. It was like you were hypnotised by this stranger.

‘Common, lets get this sorted out for you, ey?’ the man said with a caring voice and, without further words, you followed his lead back to the Garrison.

The Garrison was still as busy as when you had left and no one really noticed you walking in.

‘Bring us some bandages and whiskey. Top shelf, two glasses’ the man said before guiding you to a private room next to the bar.

‘Thank you for your help but I am fine, really’ you said to him as he pulled out a chair from beside the table in the middle of the room.

‘If you do not get this cleaned out, it will get infected. Now sit down love’ the man instructed as the barmaid brought bandages and a bottle of top shelf Irish whisky with two glasses.

The man poured you a glass of whiskey and handed it to you. Without words, you took a hasty sip knowing that, what was about to follow, would hurt. Your mother used to clean out your wounds with whisky on numerous occasions after you had fallen off your bicycle, just not as expensive as the bottle that was standing on the table right in front of you at this moment.

Without warning, the man kneeled down in front of you and lifted up your skirt just above your knees. He poured a good amount of whisky onto your wound, which caused you to clinch your teeth and some tears escape from your eyes. He then used his handkerchief to carefully pull some pieces of gravel and broken glass from your knee before wiping the wound again with some more whiskey.

‘So, tell me, what brings a girl like you to a place like this? You are clearly not from here’ the man asked as he wrapped your knee up with a bandage.

‘Business’ you clinched as you grabbed the bottle of whiskey from the table and poured yourself another glass while the man finished bandaging you up.

‘Business?’ the man asked surprised as he sat down opposite from you while lightening himself a cigarette. ‘What kind of business?’ he added.

‘Export of products to the US’ you said carefully. You didn’t know who this man was so you didn’t want to reveal anything that could be of detriment to you or aunt Esme.

‘Now that is interesting’ the man said with a grin before taking a short pause. ‘Let me guess, you want to export alcohol to your country because of the prohibition’ he added.

‘What makes you think that?’ you asked carefully with a little pretend chuckle. It was not your place to discuss matters like this and you were surprised that he caught onto you almost immediately. Could he read you, you wondered, and regretted saying anything at all.

By this time, you were quite intimidated by this man and were contemplating to leave. On the other hand, you didn’t want to be rude. After all, he had just saved you from an attack.

‘What else could you possibly export from Birmingham to America? You manufacture machinery, vehicles and weapons yourself. This means you have no need for them. You are after something you cannot get where you are’ the man said as he leaned back into his chair.

‘Let’s not talk about business’ you said nervously. You felt as though you had been cornered.

‘Alright…let’s talk about something else’ the man said before pausing again. ‘Maybe let’s start with your name. What is your name?’ he added.

‘Y/N’ you said.

‘It is nice to meet you Y/N…’ and, before the man could introduce himself, another, older man stormed into the room.

‘They fucking got him, we need to move now’ the man yelled.

‘I am sorry Y/N, I have one of my drivers take you to wherever you are staying’ the man said before storming out of the room and grabbing two guns from behind the bar. With him were several men and all you heard was yelling and cars driving off within moments after.

Family Confrontation

A young man came into the room and introduced himself as ‘Finn’.

‘Apparently, I am your driver’ Finn said rather annoyed. ‘Where are you staying?’ he asked.

‘Renaissance Hotel’ you answered.

‘Alright, then let’s go’ Finn said in a haste.

This was an abrupt ending to an eventful night and the drive back to the hotel was rather quiet. Finn didn’t speak a word with you, not a single one.

As you approached the Hotel, Finn wished you a pleasant night before racing off. Your guess was that he was going to join the others for some kind of fight.

It appeared to you that life in Birmingham wasn’t so much different to life you knew in Atlanta. Violence, gangs and conflicts. It all was the same.

‘Y/N, what the fuck did I tell you?’ your father shouted at you as you entered the penthouse suite.

‘Father, I am not a child anymore. I can look after myself’ you said.

‘What is this, on your knee? Your skirt is full of blood’ your father asked worryingly.

‘I fell. It turns out that heels do not go well with all the horse shit on the streets here. A nice man at the Garrison helped me to get bandaged up. It is not a big deal’ you explained, not wanting to admit that you had gotten in to trouble.

‘The Garrison? What the fuck did you do at the Garrison? This place is dangerous, you hear me Y/N?’ your father said angrily.

‘I am keeping an eye on your men, something which you have obviously failed to do as they weren’t there’ you answered, causing your father to raise his hand at you.

‘Careful Y/N. This business is not for you and I wish that your aunt would learn to understand this. Get yourself cleaned up’ your father said before walking away.

And, so you did. You ran yourself a nice warm bath, knowing exactly that it will hurt, but this was exactly what you needed. Sometimes pain makes you feel alive and there has been a lot of pain in your life in the past eight years.

Your mother never got over the grief of losing her son while your father never gotten over his hate for the Shelby and Lee family. Your aunt Esme was the one who took you in, who ensured you were educated and who had confidence in you.

Being in business with her was something you wanted. You both felt that change was needed and the success that came with the business was something that gave you satisfaction. You were running her accounts for the past two years and you knew how lucrative this business was. But did your father care about it? This was always something you were wondering about.

‘Perhaps these questions and thoughts were for another night’ you said to yourself as you poured yourself a glass of whiskey and climbed into the warm bath.

It stung terribly but soon the pain went away and all you could feel was the warmth over your body.

Your mind soon drifted off into more pleasurable thoughts about the man you had met tonight.

You only ever had been with one man before and it didn’t take long for him to bore you. That being said, he was barely a man at all. He was the same age as you and studying to become lawyer. There was no adventure and no intensity. But, this man you met tonight, who was a fair bit older than you, he appeared to be far from being boring. There was some kind of intensity in his eyes, it was almost hypnotising. His voice was calming but yet intimidating and the thoughts that appeared about him in your mind were unfamiliar to you. They were intense. They were pure pleasure.

You kept wondering who this mysterious man was and whether you would see him again.

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